The Crying Man
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Story set in American Samoa. Why? Because I can. I can't think of a better reason. Who is The Crying Man? That's what the story is about. Will post a chapter per day, as usual. 23 chapters in total. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is a story I wrote after getting an idea to try and set a story in American Samoa. Why? I have no idea. I do make an attempt to write in Samoan and I did a lot of research on how the culture functions and what American Samoa is like. If you find something that I have written to be very wrong, please feel free to tell me. I hate getting things wrong. I also don't want to offend anyone by writing something that is not true. If my Samoan is bad (which it probably is), and you know it, do tell me. I had to work with what I had, which was a single online dictionary from the early 20th century. What this boils down to is that I did my best and I hope it's good enough.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS, nor any of the characters found therein. The OCs found in this story are my own creation...and unfortunately, I can't make money off them...and I'm not making money off this story. I really wish I was. Then, I could move out of my crappy basement apartment and away from the mice in the walls. :)

* * *

**The Crying Man  
**by Enthusiastic Fish

**Chapter 1**

They called him _The Crying Man_...which was ironic on the surface because that was the one thing he never did. He never cried. So, why the name? One of the tourists asked upon hearing a discussion about it and the locals said it was because he never cried...but he needed to cry. The Crying Man. They had needed some way to refer to him and the name had stuck.

He knew what they called him, and it didn't bother him one bit. They could have called him _The Running Man_ with equal accuracy. There was no question in his mind that he was running away. It actually amused him that he'd run so far. Pago Pago was definitely far. Seven thousand miles from Washington, D. C. He hadn't given his name when he had come. It had surprised him when they hadn't pressed for one. So long as he paid his rent and didn't make any trouble, he was welcome to keep his secrets.

The interesting thing about The Crying Man, to the tourists at least, was that he wasn't some hermit. He had a laptop. He was friendly and chatted when he came in for groceries. He simply refused to talk about himself. He wasn't rude about it; he just wouldn't answer any questions...except for one.

"Are you a local?"

The Crying Man laughed...loudly. "Do I _look_ like a local?"

"No."

The Crying Man smiled. "There's your answer."

He was even picking up some of the local language. He was terrible at it and they all laughed at his poor attempts to converse with them, but they appreciated the effort.

"Talofa!"

"Vai?"

"Fa'afetai."

Smothered chuckles.

"Come on. Didn't I get that one right?"

"Close."

"...but no cigar?"

"Exactly."

"Fa'amolemole, tell me how to say it right."

They loved helping him with his pronunciation. It was an entertaining way to pass the time...when there was time to spare. The Crying Man was content to talk with them when they were there...or not. He didn't push himself on them. He didn't hold himself aloof. He was simply there. He showed great respect to the _matais_ and asked many questions to make sure that he didn't offend anyone by his ignorance. In short, he was unlike many who came to American Samoa.

The house he rented was inland, but he spent long hours on the beach, staring at the water. If he had told the owner of the house how long he'd be staying, no one mentioned it. He simply paid the rent, kept the house in good condition, better, in fact, than it had been before, and went about whatever business brought him there.

...the business of running away. Even when he smiled, even when he laughed, there was something deep in his eyes that said he'd rather be crying.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"It's been three days. Have you seen him at all?" Luka asked.

"No. Not on the beach," Noelani said. She worked as a kind of lifeguard, watching to make sure the tourists didn't hurt themselves.

Malaki, the store-owner, was concerned. "He's not been in the store either."

"Should we see if he's all right? He doesn't usually like visitors," Noelani said.

The Crying Man had been in Pago Pago for six months. He was a man of habit, routine. He did the same things every day...except this week. Wednesday was the day he came to get groceries and he hadn't come. Those who saw him most, Luka, Noelani and Malaki, worried for him. His house was isolated. He didn't invite anyone over...ever. It was hard to say that they were his friends. He wasn't open enough to really have friends, but they liked The Crying Man all the same.

"Seoeli may have heard from him. Rent was due yesterday, was it not?" Luka observed.

"Good idea. I'll call him." Malaki went behind the counter and grabbed his phone. A brief conversation with Seoeli did nothing to alleviate his worries. "Seoeli said The Crying Man has not paid. Because he has been so good in the past, he's not worried now, but..."

"...but he would not be late for no reason," Noelani finished. "That is not who he is."

"Then, who _is_ he?" Luka asked, wryly. "We don't even know his name."

"You have looked in his eyes, Luka. You tell me."

"You're right. It's not like him."

As one, the three left the store and headed for The Crying Man's home. When they reached it, the area was eerily quiet. None of them had actually been there since The Crying Man had moved in, but the silence was oppressive and frightening...like the eerie calm in the eye of a hurricane. There was a feeling of chaos waiting to break loose. Luka took the first step toward the house. He was one of the many unemployed young people on Tutuila. Malaki sometimes gave him temporary work at the store, but that was only at the height of the tourist season. He had applied to attend American Samoa Community College, but his SAT scores were too low. He was in the process of trying again...and The Crying Man had offered to help him study. From those tutoring sessions, they knew that he was very well-educated...and very smart. The two things did not always mean the same thing.

Once Luka began his approach, Noelani and Malaki followed. They knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Luka looked at them and then hesitantly tried the door. It was rude, but he was more convinced than ever that there was something wrong.

"'Olo'o Tagata Tagi!" Luka called.

Only silence answered, but there was a strange smell in the air. Luka looked back at Noelani and Malaki, his worry changing swiftly to fear. The house was small, but they split up to search it.

Noelani found The Crying Man.

"Here! Come quickly!" she shouted. When Luka and Malaki reached the bedroom, they stopped. Noelani was kneeling beside the mat. The Crying Man was on the floor...bleeding.

"I think he's been shot," she whispered. There was a large pool of blood on the floor beside him. He was not moving.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Shot? Here?" Malaki asked in surprise. There wasn't much in the way of violent crime on Tutuila. Still, as he looked at The Crying Man, bare-chested and bloody, he had to agree. He knew what gunshot wounds looked like.

Noelani didn't answer. Instead, she grabbed the shirt lying on the floor beside The Crying Man and pressed it over the wound. He moaned.

"He's still alive!" Luka said in amazement. "He looks dead."

"He still might be if we don't get help for him."

"For a bullet wound? We cannot help him here," Malaki protested. "He needs to go to the hospital."

"We can _try_, Malaki," Noelani said firmly. "We can also try to find out who might have done this to him."

"We are not police, Noelani."

"No. We are the closest he has to friends here. We must help him in any way that we can." She leaned over The Crying Man and gently turned him, keeping the shirt pressed tightly against his wound. He moaned again and his eyes fluttered open. "Tagi...can you hear me?"

His eyes held no recognition in them. Noelani recognized something else in them, however: fever. They could come on quickly in this season with the weather so hot and humid, and particularly with an open wound.

"It is Noelani, Tagi. Do you hear me?"

The Crying Man did not speak, but he looked at her, as if trying to understand.

"What is your name, Tagi?" she asked, not expecting a response.

He looked as though he might have answered, but then his eyes rolled back in his head and he arched his back in pain. Noelani held the shirt against his wound and whispered to him.

"It is all right, Tagi. We are here for you. You are safe. We will not let you die."

"I found a first aid kit!" Luka said, running back into the room. He knelt beside Noelani and opened it. There were bandages in it, yes, but there was more...

"Why does The Crying Man have a gun?" Malaki asked as Luka held it up in shock.

Noelani was more interested in the badge that also had been secreted in with the antibiotics, pain relievers and bandaids. So, while Malaki called for help, she picked it up with her free hand and looked at it. When she read the words on it, she realized that they were probably involved in something a whole lot bigger than just The Crying Man being injured.

"When will they get here?" she asked Malaki.

"Soon. Can you tell how bad he has been hurt?"

"No. I have no experience with people getting shot. I only know that he is bleeding and the wound is more than likely infected." Indeed, The Crying Man's face was nearly white beneath the dark tan and shivers wracked his body. "He does not look good, Malaki."

"What can we do?" Luka asked, finally tearing his eyes away from the gun.

"We can make sure that he gets the help he needs. Give me the gun, Luka."

"Why?"

"Because we are not going to let them see the gun..._or_ this badge. He has hidden them for a reason. Whatever he is, 'Olo'o Tagata Tagi is a good man. Someone has tried to kill him. We must try and keep them from succeeding."

"How will hiding these things help?"

"We do not know who did this," Noelani said. "They could be anyone. There are tourists all over. It could be someone who is not a tourist, but a newcomer like him."

The approaching sirens made her fall silent.

"Give me the gun. I will hide them."

"No," Malaki said suddenly. "I will take them. We can decide what to do with them later."

"Very well," Noelani agreed. She handed him the badge and Luka gave Malaki the gun. He put them both in his bag, but first he smelled the gun to see if it had been fired recently. It hadn't been...which made him much less concerned about helping The Crying Man. He did not like the idea of helping a murderer. The badge, however...

He broke off his thoughts when the EMTs came in and took The Crying Man away. Their faces were worried. He had lost a lot of blood, they said. The wound was infected. How long had he been injured? What had happened? No one could answer the questions. After the ambulance left, the three looked at each other in concern. The police would have to come...they would _have_ to. It was rare enough that a major crime occurred, but when it did, it was necessary to find out who had committed the crime quickly. A tourist could leave at any time...and tourists were more likely to be the culprits. Still, they owed The Crying Man the benefit of the doubt and they could help him keep his secrets.

Noelani went into the bathroom to wash the blood off her hands. While she was in there, she began to look through the cupboards. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Malaki went and looked in the kitchen area. It could not really be called a room. It was open to the rest of the house.

"What does NCIS mean?" Noelani asked as she came out of the bathroom. "I have never seen that before. The badge says it is part of the United States Navy."

Luka shrugged. He was looking through the closet.

"Naval Criminal Investigative Service," Malaki answered. "I was in the Navy for a short time. They are the police for the Navy."

"So...is that _his_ badge or did he...take it from someone?" Luka asked, turning back to the others. He looked worried...about discovering something wrong with the man who had become almost a friend.

"I do not think he took it, Luka."

"But the gun. Why would he have that?"

"If he is a policeman, he would need a gun."

"But why would he hide them?"

Noelani sighed. "E leai iloa 'o a'u, Luka. We know nothing. We cannot jump to conclusions without knowing the facts."

Malaki open the cupboard beneath the sink. There, among the various pots and pans, he found it.

"We know something about him," Malaki said.

"What?"

"That the badge belongs to him." He held out the wallet for their inspection.

"Now, what do we do?" Luka asked.

"Nothing. We will talk of this later, but not now...and not here." Malaki looked out the window and saw the police coming up to the door. "Tonight. At my store."

"Mataio! Lui!" Noelani called as they came inside.

"Noelani, lota tuafafine, what are you doing here?" Mataio asked in surprise.

"We were worried about The Crying Man, Mataio. We came here and found him."

"All of you, together?" Lui asked.

"Do you suspect me, Lui?" Noelani asked, smiling a little.

Lui flushed. "I have to ask, Noelani. You know that."

"Yes, I know, Lui. We all came together. The Crying Man was not on the beach yesterday and he did not come for groceries today. We were worried."

"We'll have to talk to you all later, but for now, we need to search his house," Mataio said. "Have you told Tama?"

"He does not need to know every moment of my day, Mataio. I am an adult now," Noelani said. "...no, I have not told him. I will."

"See that you do. Otherwise, he'll have my hide," Mataio said, grinning finally.

"I would not want that, tuagane," Noelani said, smiling in return. Then, her smile faded and she pointed. "I found him in there."

"Thank you, Noelani. I hope he makes it," Lui said.

The police knew The Crying Man as well. When he first arrived in Pago Pago, he had not looked like a nice person. His hair was shaved close to his scalp. He had the unhealthy look of someone who has been either ill for a long period of time or else has been living badly. Then, there were his eyes...haunted. So, they had stopped him on the street. He had been respectful...but unwilling to talk about himself. They had asked him his business there when he appeared to be settling in for a long stay. He had told them that he didn't have any business. When they asked him his name, he had very politely refused to tell them.

"_I can't tell you that, but I promise that I'm not here to do anything illegal," he said smiling, but the smile did not reach his eyes._

"_How are we supposed to believe that, ali'i, when you will not even tell us your name?"_

"_Many innocents have reasons for keeping secrets. Not all are out of malice. I understand that you have to ask...and that you have to worry, but I give you my word that I am not going to commit a crime here. You can follow me around if you want. I won't protest, but I cannot tell you who I am or where I came from."_

In the end, they _had_ watched him for a few days and asked those who spoke to him what they thought. Everyone had found him congenial and harmless. Eventually, he had simply become part of the island, not a native, but an accepted part.

As Luka, Noelani and Malaki left the house, they couldn't help but feel slightly guilty. Noelani, especially, felt bad for deceiving her older brother, but until The Crying Man could speak for himself, they felt bound to protect him. Together, they went to the hospital to see how he was, but the staff said that they had no updates...except that the doctors were considering life flighting him to a larger hospital in New Zealand or even Australia. So far, however, he was not stable enough to be moved anywhere.

"What if he dies? What will we do?" Luka asked as they left.

"Nothing, Luka."

"But...what if he has friends or family? They should know," Luka insisted.

"They should, but if he has chosen to tell no one...who are we to do otherwise?" Noelani asked.

"We are his friends," Luka said. "Family is important and we should not deprive either him or them of the chance to be together."

"We are not to that point yet, Luka," Malaki said. "If The Crying Man was strong enough to survive being shot for however long, he may be strong enough to survive. We can see him tomorrow and see if he is willing to talk."

"...if he lives that long," Luka said softly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"_Are you sure you're ready for this?"_

"_Of course. I wouldn't have shaved my head if I wasn't."_

"_I mean it."_

"_Yes. As ready as I can be."_

The Crying Man tossed and turned in the grips of a high fever. Sweat poured down his body and he was in agony. They had him on antibiotics to try and clear the infection from his system, but so far, it wasn't working. His pulse was weak and racing.

"_Shoot him!"_

"_Kill him or die yourself!"_

"_This is what it takes. Prove you are who you say you are!"_

"No!" The Crying Man screamed. "No, I won't!" His eyes flew open and he sat up, pulling the stitches from his wound. Immediately, a nurse ran into the room to push him back down. Blood soaked the bandage.

"Fomai Sivali!" she called urgently. Dr. Sivali came in quickly and helped wrestle The Crying Man back down. He fought their arms.

"No! Leave me alone! Don't hurt him! No!" he cried.

"Ali'i, you are fine. Please, calm down," Dr. Sivali urged.

"I can't do it!" he screamed. "No, Boss!"

"_Finish him off!"_

"_Kill him!"_

"_Die!"_

"NO!"

"We'll have to sedate him," Dr. Sivali said. The nurse nodded and went to get a sedative. The Crying Man was still screaming and fighting when she returned...although he was weaker.

_The echo ricocheted off the bare walls. It rang through his skull._

"He's dead...he's dead! I killed him!" The Crying Man moaned.

Dr. Sivali looked at the nurse, his eyes widening. Then, he took the syringe and injected it into the IV.

As the sedative took hold, The Crying Man looked up at Dr. Sivali, his eyes unseeing.

"I'm so sorry."

"It is all right, ali'i," Dr. Sivali said calmly. "Sleep now."

The Crying Man fell unconscious and Dr. Sivali bent over and removed the bandage.

"I will need to reclose his wound."

There was no response from behind him. Dr. Sivali straightened.

"Afioga. I need more sutures."

"He said he killed someone, Solinuu."

"He is delirious, Afioga. We don't know what he means. Regardless, he is my patient. Please, Tausi Maifea, help me close his wound."

"Yes, Fomai." Afioga left to get the suture kit.

Dr. Sivali stared at the man sleeping restlessly before him. "I hope you are innocent, ali'i...but even if you are not, I do not envy you the pain you are in."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

That night, well after Sa, the three friends met in Malaki's store. Mataio and Lui had found a knife in the back of the house. It had blood on it. They said it could have been self defense, but they had no other bleeding victim, and obviously, The Crying Man was in no state to tell them what had happened. They estimated that it had been over a day since the altercation had occurred. That he had survived so long without dying was considered a miracle.

The three pieces of evidence of the life of The Crying Man lay on the counter. The gun, the badge and the wallet. All of them had been hidden...none found until that day.

"He looks so much happier in this photo," Noelani said.

"It's his driver's license," Malaki said, grinning.

"It's a good picture."

"Yes, it is. He does look much happier," Luka agreed, "although I like 'Olo'o Tagata Tagi better as a name."

Noelani laughed.

"But I don't understand why he is here. He is a policeman. Should we call his work?"

"No. We must ask him if he wants us to," Malaki said. "We owe him that."

"Very well...but they're talking about sending him to Auckland. We can't ask him if he's not here," Luka noted.

"Afioga told me that they would only do that if the fever got worse. The bullet was easily removed in surgery and they were able to give him a transfusion," Noelani said. "It is the fever that could kill him now."

"Have you talked to your father, Noelani?"

Noelani rolled her eyes. "Yes, I have. He wants me to be careful, nothing more."

"Rumors are already flying," Luka said.

"I will go tomorrow morning before my shift and see if he is awake," Noelani said. "And you should not listen to rumors. It is unkind."

"But Vaiana said that she heard him confess to killing someone," Luka protested.

"Vaiana talks too much and hears things she should not," Noelani said repressively.

"She is my friend."

"Then, you should tell her to think twice before speaking. Words spoken in fever should not be told to others. Who knows what they mean...if anything?"

"I am worried about him, too, Noelani," Luka said. "But I am also worried that he is not what he seems."

"The pain in his eyes is real. The kindness he has shown is real. That is all that matters. We know now that he is also a policeman. That should be enough."

"E le pu se tino i upu!" Luka said loudly.

"E pala le ma'a, a e le pala upu!" Noelani retorted.

Luka was ready to argue more, but Malaki shushed him. "Stop, both of you. It does not matter whether or not words can hurt. Noelani, if they do send him to New Zealand, we should call someone because that will mean that he could die. If you can speak to him tomorrow, then we will know what he wants. Luka, find the phone number for NCIS in Washington, DC. Then, we will be ready if he wants us to call someone." He paused. "It will be an expensive call."

"I will pay for it, Malaki," Noelani said, smiling again.

"International calls are not cheap. We _all_ may need to chip in."

"I should go. Tama will worry otherwise," Luka said and stood.

"Yes. We'll talk more of this when we know more," Malaki agreed.

Only after Luka left did Noelani turn back.

"Malaki?"

"Yes?"

"Are we doing the right thing? Helping The Crying Man?" she asked.

"I think we are."

"What if we are not?"

"Then...Ia natia i Fatualavai," he said.

"It will be more than forgiveness we need if we are wrong."

"True...but we are not. Good night, Noelani."

"Tofa, Malaki."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tagi?" Noelani asked the next morning. He was not shouting...but still tossing and turning, his fever raging. She had relieved Lani and taken over mopping his forehead. He moaned and the skin around the wound was still infected. The fever wasn't getting worse, but it wasn't getting any better either.

As she dipped the cloth in the cold water again, Noelani looked around. No one was there at the moment. She leaned over and whispered the name on the driver's license in his ear. The Crying Man's eyes opened and he stared at her in alarm.

"Do you know me?" she asked.

"Hot," he moaned.

"I know. You have a fever. You were cold before. Do you remember me?"

"The beach..."

"Yes. I am Noelani. We found your name in your house."

"No..." His eyes flicked around the room and he began to shake.

"We will not tell anyone. Is there someone who _should _know?"

The Crying Man panted and writhed away from her again. Noelani grabbed him and pulled him back down.

"Stay still, Tagi," she said.

His eyes were seeing something else again and he cried out, "Help Gibbs!"

"Who is Gibbs?"

"Help..." he said again and sagged. The Crying Man looked at her and grabbed her wrist as she reached out to cover his forehead again. "...Gibbs...Gibbs..." he said.

"Should I call him?"

"Gibbs! No, Boss! I won't! I can't!" he began to shout again and Lani came back in the room. Together they held him down until he subsided into fevered dreams once more.

"Are you going to move him?" Noelani asked.

"No. We can't. There is a storm forming."

"A cyclone?"

"Possibly. They are predicting it will be. We could try to get a helicopter out here to fly around it, but it is too risky. We will have to do our best here...and hope it is good enough." Lani sighed. "I don't know if it will be. He is very ill."

"Yes." Noelani stood. "'O le a a'u alu. I will try to come back after my shift is over."

"Tofa."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Malaki, what is the time zone difference between here and Washington, DC?" Noelani asked.

"What?" Malaki returned. He finished ringing up his customer and only then did he pay her attention.

"It is nine a.m. here. What is the time in Washington, DC?"

"Three p.m. They are six hours ahead of us." Malaki looked around. No one was in the store. "You spoke to him?"

"I am not sure if he understood, but he told me a name and asked for his help...I think."

"Are you willing to call based only on that?"

"Yes...because Luka is right. He needs someone. They are not taking him to New Zealand. There is a storm between us."

"Cyclone?"

"It is possible."

"It is early."

"That does not mean much here."

"I know. Luka came to see if I had work for him and gave me the phone number. Do you have time to call?"

"Yes."

"Very well. You may use my phone."

"Are you sure, Malaki? I said I would pay."

"Yes. I am sure. Go on. Be careful what you tell them...just in case."

"I will only speak to the man Tagi asked for. If I cannot get to him, I will not tell them anything."

"I know you won't. Go into the back. I have customers."

Sure enough the bell at the front of the store jingled and admitted two of the regulars.

Noelani snuck into the back room and began to dial.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Translations from Samoan:_

_E le pu se tino i upu – Words do not break bones._

_E pala le ma'a, a e le pala upu – Stones rot but not words._

_Ia natia i Fatualavai – May our fault be hidden, i.e. May we be forgiven._

'_O le a a'u alu – I am going now._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

There was no use even pretending anymore. The empty desk screamed to be filled...but no one wanted to admit that its original occupant might never be found.

Ziva looked at the desk and wished...how she wished that it was no longer empty. She knew that the others felt the same. Gibbs, in particular, felt guilty. It had been eight months with no sign...not even a body. He was simply gone.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I need to speak to someone named Gibbs," Noelani said patiently. She was so happy to finally be speaking to a real person that she was trying to keep her frustration in check.

"_Is he an agent, ma'am?"_

"I think so."

"_What is his full name?"_

"I do not know. I only know that he is in Washington, DC, with NCIS."

"_What is this about, ma'am?"_

"I cannot tell you. I can only tell Gibbs. I must speak to him and only to him. It is very important."

"_Where are you calling from?"_

Her patience was quickly waning. "I can only speak to Gibbs. Can you help me find him or not?"

"_Please, hold."_

Boring music began to play in her ear. Noelani resisted the urge to hang up. This was going to be a _very_ expensive call.

"_Ma'am? Could you tell me your name?"_

"Noelani."

"_Thank you. Please, hold."_

"Do I have any other choice?"

For the first time, the voice on the other end sounded amused. _"Of course. You could hang up."_

"I need to speak to Gibbs. I will wait, but this call is getting very expensive."

"_Please, hold."_

Noelani sighed. "Ia lafoia i le fogava'a tele," she muttered to herself.

"Nothing yet?" Malaki asked.

"I am on hold...again," Noelani said. "I hope it is the last time. You may need our help to pay for this call after all, Malaki."

He grimaced and went back out to the front.

The phone started to ring again. Noelani straightened.

"_Hello, Special Agent DiNozzo."_

"No."

"_No?"_

"No. I need to speak to Gibbs."

"_Who is calling?"_

"Noelani. It is urgent that I speak to him."

"_He's away from his desk. May I take a message?"_

"No! I cannot tell you anything except that I need to speak to Gibbs. He _is_ the boss, is he not?"

"_What did you call him?"_

"The boss. Is that not what he is?"

"_Yes...that's what he is...to some people. Hang on. I'll go and find him myself. Don't hang up."_

"I do not intend to. It took me ten minutes just to get to you. Are all U.S. phones so complicated?"

"_Only the government ones."_

"I see."

The hold music did not begin again, for which Noelani was extremely grateful. She waited and heard someone approaching.

"_This is Special Agent Gibbs. Who are you?"_

"I am Noelani."

"_What do you want?"_

"Do you know a man by the name of Timothy McGee?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony was talking to Ziva about Noelani's thick accent when Gibbs suddenly slapped the back of his head.

"What is it, Boss?"

He gestured for them to be quiet.

"Yes, I know a Timothy McGee."

Tony froze. Involuntarily, Ziva's hand went to his arm. Gibbs put the phone on speaker.

"_...and I am calling from Pago Pago in American Samoa. Timothy McGee is here."_

Gibbs couldn't believe what he was hearing. Eight months of nothing and now this. "How long has he been there?"

"_Six months, I think. We did not know his name until yesterday."_

"Why not?"

"_He would not speak of himself, not even his name. We call him 'Olo'o Tagata Tagi."_

"What does _that_ mean?" Gibbs asked.

"_The Crying Man. He is not happy, this Timothy McGee. How do you know him?"_ The woman suddenly sounded wary.

"He's a member of my team."

"_Oh, good. I had hoped that was it."_

"How did you find McGee's name and why are you calling?"

"_He was shot yesterday...or rather two days ago. Malaki, Luka and I found him in his house yesterday. He is very ill. The wound became infected and we cannot move him anywhere because a storm is forming and blocking our path. He has a terrible fever and is saying things that we do not understand. I think he may be in danger. We have not found who did this to him...and he will not be going anywhere. Right now, Solinuu is worried that he may die, but Tagi is strong and we hope he will live."_

Gibbs looked at Tony and Ziva who were both still in shock. "How did you find out about me?"

"_He has been calling for you in his fever. He screams your name and begs for help. There is something he cannot do...or will not do...and he needs you, it seems. We found his wallet and badge and gun in his house. We have hidden them from the police because Tagi has not wanted anyone to know anything. We do not know who he is or why he is unhappy, but The Crying Man is our friend and I think he needs help...from you. Can you come, Gibbs?"_

Tony went to his computer and began to type frantically.

"Yes. It will take time, but I'll come."

"_I will tell 'Olo'o Tagata Tagi and perhaps it will help him get better. If the storm becomes a afafulifao...uh...a cyclone, it may hit us and you would not be able to reach us. We have many cyclones throughout the year."_

"I'll get there," Gibbs said. He looked at Tony and saw the surprise on his face. It was not a good surprise. "Whatever it takes."

"_Good. I must go to work now. I will be late, and Malaki is going to owe a lot of money on his next phone bill. When you get here, you can either ask for me, Noelani, or Malaki...or you can go directly to the LBJ Tropical Medical Center in Pago Pago. It is the only hospital on Tutuila."_

"I'll get there. Thank you, Noelani."

"_Fa'afetai. That is thank you in Samoan. The Crying Man was trying to learn it."_

"Fa'fetai?"

There was soft laughter. _"More or less. Maliu mai. That is you're welcome."_

Gibbs couldn't help but smile a little.

"_Tofa, Gibbs."_

"Good-bye, Noelani." He hung up and looked at Tony. "Well?"

Tony looked up. "Well, it's $2000 each one way to fly to American Samoa from Dulles...and it will take 19 hours to get there."

Gibbs sighed and picked up the phone. "Hey...I need a lift," he said and listened for a few minutes. "Thanks."

Ziva and Tony looked at each other as Gibbs hung up. "I hope you have a bag packed. We're leaving in an hour."

"How?"

"There's a COD heading out to the Nimitz. Tomorrow morning. Leaving from Honolulu. They're going to get us to American Samoa." He walked away.

"Gibbs! How are we getting to Honolulu?" Ziva called after him. She looked at Tony who shrugged.

"I don't know. Don't ask me."

"Why is McGee in American Samoa anyway?"

"He wanted a vacation?" Tony asked, covering up his shock. He had come out of the hospital to find that Tim had been gone for days with no trace. Abby had nearly been run over by a car and everyone was frantically trying to figure out if Tim was alive or dead. He had left nothing to tell them where he was going. All they had found in his apartment was a piece of paper describing the car. Nothing else. His badge, gun and a small bag were all that had disappeared. When they called Tim's family, they had no knowledge either...except that Sarah said Tim had left her instructions to pay his rent for him. Nothing more.

Now, eight months later, Tim had suddenly appeared again...shot, possibly dying, in the South Pacific. It made no sense that they could understand.

"Maybe he still feels guilty for shooting you," Ziva said.

"It wasn't his fault. Even _he_ acknowledged that. You said so yourself."

"That does not mean that he did not feel guilty. Guilt is not often rational."

"For eight months?" Tony asked, fishing around in his bag to make sure he'd replaced everything from their last sudden trip. "Not telling even his _family_ where he was? That's not McGee."

"Neither was his undercover work...but he still did it."

"That's completely different. Are you packed?"

"Yes. Do you think we should tell Abby?"

Tony smirked. "Where do you think Gibbs was going?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Abby?" Gibbs walked into the lab. As had become depressingly normal, there was no music playing.

"Hey, Gibbs," Abby said glumly. "It's been eight months, three days, five..."

"We found him, Abby."

"...hours...what?" Abby turned around.

"We found him...or rather someone else found him and called us."

"You found Tim?" she whispered.

"Yes."

"Where is he?" The hope was building in her voice.

"Samoa."

"Where?"

"American Samoa."

"Why there?"

"We don't know. I didn't talk to him."

"Why not?"

"He's hurt, Abby. We're going out there to find out what happened. We'll bring him back when we can." Gibbs grabbed her arm. "Before you ask, no, you can't go. This is still part of a case and looks as though it may have caught up to McGee anyway."

"Gibbs..."

"_No_, Abby. We will keep you updated, but this is a case and you cannot just disappear from NCIS because you're worried."

Abby put her hands on her hips. "Isn't that why _you're_ going?"

Gibbs didn't answer. "We'll keep in contact. I have to go."

"Tell him it's not his fault, Gibbs," Abby said finally.

Gibbs laughed humorlessly. "Abby, if that was all it would have taken, he would never have left."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Luka! I am surprised to see you here," Noelani said, smiling.

Luka stood quickly and looked from The Crying Man to her. "I am still worried about him. We really should..."

"It has already been done, Luka."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why didn't you ask? You know where I have been. I work. You know where Malaki is. Why did you not ask him? You knew I was going to talk to him today."

"I am sorry."

"As am I. We should not fight. Will you accept my apology?"

"Of course."

"Then, all is forgiven. His friends are coming...if they can beat the storm. They are saying that the edge will hit us at least...and that it could change course and go right over Tutuila."

"I hate the cyclones."

"They are a part of life, Luka...but I do not like them either." Noelani looked at The Crying Man. "He is so still right now."

"I think he is actually asleep, but he still has a fever."

"Well, if you would like, I will sit with him for now."

"Okay." Luka stood and began to leave, but then he turned back. "Noelani..."

"Yes?"

"Lui was here, talking to Solinuu."

"About what?"

"They found a blood trail leading into the forest, but it disappeared. Lui wanted to talk to Tagi and ask him who it was. They are beginning to be suspicious of him, I think."

"When his friends get here, they can explain things to us _and_ to Lui and Mataio. Until then, we cannot tell."

"Yes, Noelani."

Noelani sat beside The Crying Man as he slept. His fever was still strong and the infection was spreading. She leaned over and whispered to him.

"Timothy." The name seemed strange to her after so long of thinking of him as The Crying Man. "Your friends, they are coming. Gibbs is coming."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Translation from Samoan:_

_Ia lafoia i le fogava'a tele – Deprecatory saying about a speaker._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"_McGee, you forgot something," Gibbs said, holding out Tim's badge and gun._

_Tim was not happy about getting them back. He stood in the doorway of his apartment and did not take them off Gibbs' hands. "Please, Boss. Let me resign. I screwed up this entire operation...and I shot Tony!"_

_Gibbs pushed past Tim, forcing him to close the door and turn around. "It was an accident. I was there. You were there. We all know."_

"_I know that, but it doesn't change the fact that he's currently in surgery...and he could die."_

"_Sometimes, these things don't go the way we want them to, McGee. That's life."_

"_No! Boss, they might know who I am. I can't be certain if they found out." Tim ran his hands over his head. "They were testing me. That's why they wanted me to shoot Tony in the first place. It was a test of my background. The way he looked at me..."_

"_Do you think they know?"_

"_I don't _know_! That's the problem." Tim was agitated, pacing back and forth. "I keep going over everything and I'm not sure. They were definitely suspicious...but more than that...I just can't say."_

"_What do you think the odds are, McGee?"_

"_I don't know, Boss...but it doesn't matter. Just...just let me resign. You'd be better off without me there anyway."_

_Gibbs slapped Tim's head. "You let me decide how I'd be better off. Take a few days. Calm down. I am not accepting your resignation. I expect to see you at your desk on Monday. That gives you four days to screw your head back on."_

"_Boss..."_

_Gibbs slapped his head again. "That's an order, McGee. Monday morning. No excuses." He shoved the badge and gun into Tim's hands and walked out._

Another jolt of the transport brought Gibbs out of his ruminations. That had been the last time he had seen Tim. Eight months ago.

"Boss! I think we should really invest in our own private plane!" Tony shouted.

"Suck it up, DiNozzo! You didn't have to come!"

Tony didn't miss a beat. "And did I mention how much I love these accomodations?"

"How much longer?" Ziva shouted over the roar of the C-130 engine.

"Well, let's see," Tony shouted back, "we landed in San Diego, refueled and took off again, what? Three hours ago?"

"Something like that!"

"Two or three more hours...until Hawaii!"

"Then, another six hours or so on the C-2 to get to the Nimitz!" Gibbs shouted.

"Boss!"

"What?"

"What if McGee doesn't even really _want_ us there?"

There was a roaring pause.

"Then...he can tell me himself!"

And that was the end of it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

He burned and froze...and burned and froze. He tossed and turned, trying to get away from the pain, the heat, the cold...but most of all, from the voices.

"_Are you sure you can do this?"_

"_I'm ready for anything...I think."_

"_You look like a scumbag to me, Probie."_

"_Thanks, Tony."_

The room spun in dizzying circles whenever he opened his eyes. Sometimes, he knew he was in a hospital, but most of the time, he was lost in the haze of horrific visions...some real, some not...all terrible.

"_You know what this means? Your life is over."_

"_Kill him!"_

"_You can't get away!"_

"Leave me alone! Stop! NO!" Tim screamed and then began to scream wordlessly and grab, not at his side where he had been shot, but at a scar on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and stared wildly at the people leaning over him. They had him. That was the point...one more minute and...

"No! No!" He tried to fight against the hands pushing him down, but he was so weak. Then, he saw the car...Abby, oblivious to the approaching danger... "Abby!" he screamed. "Get back! Help!"

Arms around him...calming him...saying soothing things in a language he couldn't understand. He opened his eyes again and saw dark brown eyes, a face both familiar and strange to him.

"Don't let them get me..." he begged the eyes.

"You are safe, Tagi."

He closed his eyes again and this time the swirling took him down into the darkness.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"This is ten times worse than flying to Columbia," Tony muttered as they got onto the C-2.

"I will take this over not knowing," Ziva said.

As they settled down for another bouncing, jolting flight (only faster than the previous two), Tony remembered the face-off.

"_What's going on?" Tim said, looking at Tony insolently...except for his eyes. There was fear in his eyes. Tony could see it._

"_A test, Tyler. Everyone goes through it."_

"_A test of what, sir?" Tim asked. He looked at Tony again. "I don't think he's my type."_

"_Good. I want you to kill him."_

_Tim blanched. There was no question that he was shocked. "What?"_

"_I thought it was clear enough."_

"_Why?"_

"_He's a fed. We caught him snooping around down on the docks. Anthony DiNozzo of NCIS. You know the rules, Tyler. No witnesses."_

"_I can't just kill him."_

"_Why not?"_

"_I don't use guns. You hired me to work on the computers, not to...pack heat or whatever you call it."_

"_I call it being armed, Tyler." He pulled out a gun and pointed it at Tim's head. "And I am always armed. Kill him."_

_Someone thrust a gun into Tim's hands and he stared blankly at it for a few seconds._

"_Are you going to try and tell me that you don't know how to handle a gun?"_

_Tim looked at Tony with an unreadable expression. Tony knew that he was remembering Gibbs' orders when the operation had started: _Do not under any circumstances blow your cover. Do what you have to do._ Tim, the by-the-book guy he was, no doubt had those words running through his head along with every other rule about undercover work that had been drummed into him during his training._

_Then, suddenly, he took the gun, and expertly pulled out the clip, checked to see if it was loaded, and took off the safety._

"_I didn't say that, did I."_

"_Good."_

_He turned toward Tony, his jaw set._

Tony remembered how much it had surprised him. How close he had come to actually believing that Tim was going to kill him. Even now, months later, he wasn't sure which was worse: Tim shooting him on purpose or Tim shooting him on accident.

"Tony!" Ziva shouted.

"What?" Tony asked, startled out of his reverie.

"What happened to the other two months?"

"What?"

"That woman, Noelani, said that McGee had been in Samoa for six months! He has been missing for eight! Where was he before that?"

There was a large thump that jolted Tony and Ziva into the air. They looked over at Gibbs and saw that he was asleep. They both rolled their eyes.

"I don't know! Tahiti?"

"Why Tahiti?"

"It's tropical!"

"Why is that a reason?"

"Because I can't think of anything else, Ziva!"

The plane flew on...toward the storm.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"The wound is turning septic, Noelani," Dr. Sivali said gravely. Lightning flashed outside the window. "All flights to and from the airport have been cancelled. I am not sure what I can do for him."

Noelani rung out the cloth once more and replaced it on The Crying Man's forehead.

"Is there nothing?"

"We are going to try a different antibiotic and see if it helps, but right now...I don't know if it will help. The infection is much much worse than I suspected before. If I had known..."

"It is not your fault."

"I am a doctor, Noelani. It is my _job_ to know these things."

"It is _not_ your job to be perfect, Solinuu. No one is perfect. We will not give up on him and we will keep trying."

Dr. Sivali raised his eyebrows.

"Do not look at me like that. Iafeta knows all about The Crying Man. He is not jealous, and it is not for you to make insinuations. He is a friend and he has no one else."

"Very well. Have you heard from Iafeta?"

Noelani shook her head sadly. "No. He was getting discouraged about finding a good job. He does not feel that we can be married until he can support me. I told him it was silly, that I could work as I have been, but he is insistent. He is even talking about moving to the United States and try to get into school there."

"What does your father say?"

Noelani shrugged. "I think he is getting impatient...as am I. I may have to tell Iafeta that I am coming to him no matter what."

Dr. Sivali smiled. "I think you should tell him of all the boys who want to take his place."

"Perhaps I will."

The Crying Man moaned faintly and shifted around. Noelani turned back to him.

"I hate to see him like this."

"As do I. For all that he is a palangi, he is a good man."

"How can you tell?"

"Even in his dreams, whatever he has done or not done, he is expressing reluctance and remorse." Dr. Sivali left and Noelani looked after him until there was another soft moan from the bed.

Suddenly, his eyes flew open and he grabbed at his shoulder again. "No! Not the sphinx!" Then, weakened by even that one outburst, he fell back and his eyes closed. He did not shout again, but he continued to breathe shallowly and to mumble.

Noelani leaned over and whispered to him once more. "Timothy. Please, hold on."

At his name, he opened his eyes again and grabbed at Noelani's arm. "The car. Tell Gibbs about the car." He panted and his eyes darted around the room.

"What car, Timothy?"

"The car! NO! Abby!" He tried to sit up, but he couldn't and he fell back, grabbing at the bandages on his side where the skin was reddening as the infection spread.

"Shh! Quiet. It is all right. Abby...is fine," Noelani said, hoping she wasn't lying.

It probably didn't matter. He didn't appear to hear her at all. He fought against her arms, but only weakly.

"I have to run! I have to get away! Help! No! Help! Gibbs!"

Noelani held him down and then turned, startled, as another set of arms joined her.

"Tagi, you are not in danger. You are safe," Malaki said firmly.

After a few more seconds, he settled down and seemed to sleep.

"Malaki, I did not expect you," Noelani said.

"I have closed my store. The storm track may bring Hettie up our way."

"Hettie?"

"She officially became a cyclone an hour ago. I am taking no chances." He sat down beside Noelani. "He looks worse."

"He is worse. Solinuu is afraid he might die...and now, there is no chance of getting him out of here...not until Hettie moves on. Where is Luka?"

Malaki smiled. "He is boarding up my store. I told him I would pay him."

Noelani couldn't help but smile back. Another flash of lightning drew her eyes to the window. The skies were dark and the wind was picking up speed. Even if Hettie didn't hit them directly, it looked as though they were in for a bad storm.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Hold on. We're just about ready to land."

"Finally!" Tony said with relief. In mere minutes, they were on the deck of the USS Nimitz under a stormy sky...with someone very familiar approaching them.

"Stan! Good to see you again," Gibbs said, holding out his hand.

"You, too, Boss!" Stan returned. "Your lift to Tutuila has been delayed a few minutes. Come off the deck!"

"What's going on?" Gibbs asked as they stepped inside.

"A cyclone, heading toward American Samoa. You sure can pick the times, Boss." He looked behind. "Wow, Tony. You're still with him, huh?"

"Hey, Stan. Seven years now."

"I only lasted five. I'm impressed."

Tony chuckled. "This is Ziva. She's Mossad."

"Nice to meet you," Stan said.

"How long have you been on the Nimitz?" Ziva asked.

"Only a couple of months. I did a few years in the San Diego office, but I like the Agent Afloat program; so I reapplied. So...what's so important that you have to fly to Pago Pago in the middle of a cyclone?"

Ziva looked at Gibbs to see if he would answer. When he didn't, she answered herself. "Agent McGee, who is also on our team, has been found there."

"The agent who went missing earlier this year?"

"You heard about it?" Tony asked in surprise.

"Yeah. It made the rounds in San Diego, just before I shipped out. Weird stuff. You wouldn't believe the scuttlebutt."

"I think I would. We heard lots worse back in DC."

"So...how did you finally track him down?"

"He got shot," Gibbs said abruptly.

"Oh. I'm sorry." Then, he blinked a few times. "Wait a second...stay here." He ran out of the room.

"Wow...Stan Burley," Tony said. "He's the last guy I expected to see, eh, Boss?"

"I expected him."

"You did?"

"Yeah, DiNozzo. I _called_ him, called in a favor."

Stan came back in.

"Okay, you guys, you're not going to believe this."

"I can believe a lot of things."

"Well, the only reason this transport you're riding on isn't getting cancelled is because we got a special request for medical equipment, an emergency of some kind in Pago Pago." He looked up. "GSW that got infected. Now, how many of _those_ do you think there are on Tutuila?"

"Probably one," Gibbs said. "Thanks, Stan."

"Hey, I owed you one. Now, we're even." He looked past him. "I think your ride's ready to go."

"Nice to meet you Agent Burley," Ziva said as they left.

"Feel free to drop in whenever you're in the neighborhood," he said smiling.

Ziva grinned in response and then walked out onto the deck.

"Good to see you again, Tony. I can't believe you've lasted that long."

"All the headslaps probably disconnected my brain."

"Probably. I hope Agent McGee makes it."

"Me, too." Stan clapped him on the shoulder and sent him out the door.

Another few minutes and they took off into the rain, heading for Tutuila.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Under the cover of the storm, a man ran through the forest. He favored his left arm and his shirt was stained with blood, although he'd managed to stop the flow. As the thunder rolled above him, he cursed his complacency. He had thought he had an easy mark. Now, he had to leave with the job unfinished...and a monster storm coming in. His boat was offshore on the north side of Tutuila, but he wasn't so sure that he could get away from the island before the storm hit in earnest. He'd have to find a place to hunker down...make new plans.

That was _twice_ now he'd underestimated Timothy McGee. It was no use telling himself that it had happened to others before. He should have taken extra precautions...because he _knew _that his target had unexpected abilities. The man fingered a long scar that stretched from his ear to his nose. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

Giving up wasn't an option, but now, he'd have to change tactics...

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Are you sure you won't go to the shelter? We'll watch him here," Afioga said.

"We will not leave him alone," Luka said sturdily.

She smiled. "Very well. I can't force you. We have some supplies coming in from the U.S. Hopefully, they will be able to help us treat him." She gave the trio a last look and then continued her rounds.

"I hope so," Noelani said quietly. As The Crying Man continued to toss and turn restlessly in his bed, she remembered how frightening (and frightened) he had looked when she first saw him. He had come, politely requested permission of the owners and sat on the beach every day for a week. He wouldn't move. He sat on the sand and stared out at the ocean...for hours. Everyone had been talking about him, the strange palangi who said so little and was so polite. At first, people wouldn't let him use their beaches...but after they realized that he took no offense at their quite rude refusals, they softened. He was quietly grateful.

_Noelani saw the stranger on the beach. It was the sixth day in a row since the Pu'u family had given him permission. Already, he was the subject of quite a few conversations. He had a lean, unhealthy look, and he was white...even for a white person. She watched him for a few minutes. He didn't seem to notice her. Every so often, he moved his hand up to his shoulder and rubbed it as if there was an irritation there that wouldn't go away. Noelani thought about continuing on her way home. It wasn't as though he had asked anyone for company. Still, she had nothing else to do...and he looked so lonely._

"_Talofa," she said, keeping her voice low, but friendly._

_He jumped and looked at her with an alarm that seemed completely out of proportion to her soft greeting. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before smiling at her. The smile didn't reach his eyes which were a beautiful green._

"_That means hello, doesn't it?" he asked._

_Noelani smiled and nodded. His voice was kind and gentle, completely at odds with his appearance._

"_Talofa. Is there something wrong?" he asked. "The sun hasn't set yet. I know it's not time for Sa."_

"_How did you know about Sa? Most palangis do not understand it."_

"_Palangi?"_

"_Foreigner."_

"_Oh. I asked one of the people at the airport if he could tell me some things that were important for me to know while I was here. Sa was just about the first thing."_

"_I see. What brings you here?"_

_He turned back to the water and didn't answer. Instead of leaving, Noelani settled in the sand beside him. He stiffened._

"_You are not a tourist," she said, looking out at the ocean._

"_What makes you say that?" he asked and she saw him force himself to relax. It was strange to think that he was afraid of her._

"_You have no camera. You have spoken to Seoeli about renting his house way out in the forest. You are not staying in a hotel. You have not done any of the things tourists do."_

"_What do tourists do?"_

"_They rent boats and sail around the island, searching for the elusive stretches of beach that are not surrounded by Samoan homes. They take planes to Ofu and Ta'u. They swim in the ocean and take many _many_ pictures. You do none of those things. You are not even happy."_

"_How can you tell?"_

_Noelani turned toward him. "Your eyes are not happy."_

_He didn't deny it, but he didn't acknowledge it either._

"_Because you have given no name, people are starting to use nicknames to speak of you."_

"_Really? How many conversations are about me?"_

"_Oh, quite a few. You are different, ali'i. You are a palangi, but you are not a tourist. You give no name but swear that you are not a criminal. You speak very little but do not hide yourself like a hermit crab. You are very polite even when we have been rude. You do not act like a palangi."_

"_Oh, so I act like a Samoan?"_

"_No," Noelani smiled. "You act like a human being."_

_His mouth smiled once again. "Thank you."_

"_Why do you look so...rough? Your voice is kind but your body is...hurt...almost...mean."_

_He laughed. "This and that."_

"_You will not answer my questions at all?"_

"_I can't."_

"_How about...I know that Seoeli only rents by the month...which is why his house stands empty most of the time. Do you intend to stay for a long time?"_

"_I don't know yet. Things change quickly..."_

"_Some things never change."_

"_Perhaps."_

_Noelani stood. The sun was dipping toward the horizon. "I must go if I wish to be home before Sa."_

"_What is your name?"_

_Noelani stopped and smiled. "You will not tell me yours, but you wish to know mine?"_

_He looked abashed but he shrugged._

"_Noelani Siimalevai."_

"_And what are people calling me?"_

"_No one has settled yet. When they do, I will let you know, ali'i."_

"_What does that mean?"_

"_It is a general title of respect. I suppose you would say...sir." Noelani began to leave once more, but she stopped at the edge of the beach. "If you are needing to buy groceries, Malaki is fair and will not look down on you for being a palangi."_

"_Thank you, Noelani."_

"_You're welcome, ali'i." _

_The next week, he was still there and Malaki had mentioned that he came in to buy food. It was then that they settled on his name. When the stranger came into the store, Noelani was there, speaking to Malaki and Luka, who was restocking the shelves._

"_Talofa," the stranger said._

"_Talofa, ali'i," Malaki said. "It is Wednesday. Will this be normal for you?"_

_He shrugged. "Nothing in my life is normal at the moment."_

"_I can well believe that." He looked beyond the stranger. "Luka, I do not pay you to stand and stare at my customers!"_

"_I am sorry, Malaki, ali'i."_

"_It's all right. I am apparently a hot topic for gossip right now."_

"_Yes, some are wondering if you are going to murder them in their beds."_

_The stranger winced and rubbed his shoulder but did not comment. Noelani smiled at Malaki and gathered her bags._

"_Olo'o Tagata Tagi," she said as she walked passed the stranger._

"_What?" he asked._

"_That is what we are calling you. 'Olo'o Tagata Tagi."_

"_What does that mean? Or do I not want to know?"_

_Luka laughed behind him._

"_It is not rude. It would be...what in English, Malaki?"_

"_The closest is The Crying Man."_

"_The Crying Man?"_

"_Yes. That is what we are calling you, unless you would prefer something else."_

_Just for a moment, The Crying Man looked as though he actually might cry, but then he mastered the impulse and shook his head. "No, that will be fine. What is it in Samoan again? I'd like to know when people are talking about me, at least."_

"'_Olo'o..."_

"'_Olo'o," he repeated._

"_Tagata..."_

"'_Olo'o Tagata."_

"_Tagi."_

"'_Olo'o Tagata Tagi." His mouth stretched into a half smile. "You people are fairly observant."_

"_Thank you, ali'i."_

"Will he survive, Malaki?" Luka asked.

"I don't know, Luka. Sometimes, they do. Sometimes, they don't. I think he _can_...whether or not he _will_ is another matter."

The rain outside the window intensified and The Crying Man moaned.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You need any help with this stuff?" the pilot asked, looking with concern at the worsening storm.

"No," the Samoan said. He was the only person still at the airport and he had greeted them all when the helicopter landed. "We will be fine. Thank you for the delivery. Get going while you still can. Otherwise you will be stuck here when Hettie arrives!" He smiled.

"With pleasure. Good luck to you!" he called to both the Samoan and the NCIS agents staying behind. The chopper lifted off and disappeared into the rain.

"I am Iopu. What can I do for you?" Iopu asked.

"Jethro, Tony, Ziva," Gibbs said, introducing them all. "We're looking for the LBJ Medical Center."

"Oh, that is in Utulei."

"I thought it was in Pago Pago," Tony said.

"No, ali'i. It is around the mountain, about five miles in Utulei, but I am heading there to deliver these supplies. Would you like a lift?"

"Absolutely," Tony said.

"Very well. Come with me and we can go before the waves get too high and cover the road."

The four of them hurried to a truck and they all piled inside. Once they were on their way, Iopu looked at them.

"So, what brings you to Samoa Amelika in the middle of a cyclone?"

"A friend," Gibbs said.

"You are here to see The Crying Man?" he asked. "You must be. Why else would three palangis show up here when all the tourists have either been evacuated or are holed up at Sadie's?"

"Palangis?" Tony asked.

"Foreigners. The Crying Man is a palangi but he has been here long enough that he knows fa'a Samoa and acts accordingly."

"Fa'a Samoa?"

"The Samoan way. Most palangis do not know it and they show no interest in knowing. It is annoying, but The Crying Man is not like most palangis. The first thing he asked me when he reached the airport was not where the hotel was but what sorts of things he needed to do and not do in order to avoid being rude."

"Are we really that bad?" Tony asked.

"Some would say yes. They say that all palangis are disrespectful and cannot understand us. They regret the increase in tourism and they wish that Samoa Amelika could be only for Samoans. They tend to be rude to palangis, even those who are kind and blame all our problems on others."

"But not you?"

"No. Not me. This island does not _belong_ to us. It belongs to Atua."

"Atua?" Ziva asked.

"God. He created this world and it all is His. Who are we to say who should and should not be allowed to look at the beauties around us?" Iopu glanced at them and shrugged. "It is rude to stare." ...but he smiled as he said it.

"So...what did you tell him?" Ziva asked finally.

"I told him that he should treat us as equals, but not to force himself into places. We may live in a place far from many others but that does not mean that we are backward. I have been many places and chose to return to my homeland. I speak English with an accent but I am still intelligent. The other thing to remember is that we have very strong traditions. It is up to us to maneuver our way between the modern world and our past. It is not up to the palangi to _tell_ us how to do it."

"How did he take it?"

"Very well. He did not look like the kind of person who would. He was...troubled when he arrived here. He was afraid and he looked dangerous, as if he could snap at any moment...but when he spoke he was not like that at all. He looked...I am not sure of the word in English...haggard? More than tired."

"Haggard would fit," Gibbs said.

There was a sudden flash of lightning. It seemed to light up the entire sky. Twenty seconds later, the thunder shook the truck.

"That was close. We will only barely make it," Iopu said. The windshield wipers were going at full speed and the waves crashed over the road before ebbing again.

"Isn't there another road we could take?"

"I am sorry, Jethro. There is not. This is the only road that connects all of Tutuila together. It runs along the coast everywhere. Do not fear. We will make it."

The road curved and soon they were separated from the ocean's edge by a little less than a football field's length of beach. Even so, the waves were driven much too close for their tastes.

"Pago Pago itself is much more protected by the rest of the bay, but we are not going that far."

"I don't understand. Everyone said that the airport _and_ the hospital were in Pago Pago."

"That is because the only part of Tutuila that tourists have heard of is Pago Pago. It is called the capital of Samoa Amelika but the government is actually in Fagatogo. It is easier just to accept what they think...unless they ask." He turned the truck onto another street and drove inland. "We are almost here."

"Where do we go, do you know?" Gibbs asked.

Iopu grinned. "Gossip travels quickly, but not even _I_ know everything about The Crying Man. You should be able to find him easily. The center is not too large. If you need help, anyone here can more than likely tell you where to find him. I must deliver these supplies. If you wish, you can come with me...or you may look on your own. Either way."

"We'll look ourselves. Thanks for the lift, Iopu."

"You are welcome, Jethro," Iopu headed off in one direction and Gibbs looked at Tony and Ziva before heading off in the other.

The hospital seemed to be deserted and after a couple of minutes, Ziva asked, "Are we going to walk around until we find him or will we ask for help?"

Before Gibbs could answer, they heard a panicked scream.

"NO! No! Help!"

It didn't matter that it had been eight months since they had heard his voice. It didn't matter that it was strained beyond reason. They knew Tim's voice when they heard it. As one, they drew their guns and ran toward the sound of his screams.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_18 months ago..._

The elevator doors opened revealing everyone's favorite FBI agent, Tobias Fornell...of course, favorite meaning that they basically _hated_ everyone else at the FBI. It made it pretty easy.

He walked in, pointed at Tim and said, "You. With me."

Tim looked up, confused. He looked over at Tony who shrugged.

"What?"

"Pretend that I'm Gibbs, Agent McGee. You speak his language well enough."

"...but you're _not_ Gibbs," Tim said, starting to smile a little. "And I know that he doesn't like you usurping his position."

Fornell rolled his eyes. "Come with me, Agent McGee. You are needed in a meeting. Is that better?"

"Not particularly," Tim said, but he stood up to follow. "Why me?"

"You'll see." Fornell walked away, up the stairs, leaving Tim behind.

"Okay, then," Tim said and ran to catch up. He nearly choked when he stepped into Jenny's office and saw, not only Fornell, but Gibbs, Jenny herself, and three or four other people he didn't know, but who all looked very important. "What's going on?"

"Thank you for coming, Agent McGee," Jenny said, smiling to reassure him. "Please, sit down."

Tim did so, trying not to feel like he was in trouble for something. It was hard with everyone's eyes on him. Gibbs in particular didn't look very happy.

"...uh...you...wanted me for something, ma'am?" Tim asked, trying to ease the tension in the air.

"The FBI and Homeland Security have _requested_," she leaned on the word, "NCIS assistance in a major undercover operation."

"Is this guy the best you can do? He'll stick out like a sore thumb," one of the unnamed important people said.

Tim fought the urge to glare. He was first to admit that his acting skills weren't exactly stellar, but this man didn't even _know_ him.

"Agent McGee is the best qualified computer...geek within NCIS," Fornell said, unexpectedly defending him. "We could do a whole lot worse."

"He'll have to get inside first, and from what I'm seeing here, that's unlikely."

Tim looked at Gibbs, silently asking for permission to speak. Gone were the days when he was completely terrified of everyone in authority...now it was only most of them...besides, he didn't know who these people were anyway, and his presence had been requested. He hadn't asked to come into the office and be insulted. Gibbs nearly smiled but shook his head infinitesimally. Tim subsided and simply stared at the man with a look of polite interest.

"May I ask a question, ma'am?" Tim asked, still staring at the unnamed man.

Jenny nodded. "Go ahead, Agent McGee."

Tim skewered the man with a stare worthy of Gibbs. He didn't look away and he kept his voice completely level, but he barely blinked. "I have yet to hear what it is that the FBI and DHS are _requesting_ me to do."

"Good point, McGee," Gibbs said. "Would you like to do the honors?" he asked the man now looking slightly uncomfortable under Tim's stare.

"I'll let Director Shephard bring him up to speed." He didn't look away from Tim, suddenly realizing that there was a slight battle of wills going on. Having sweated under Gibbs' stare more than once, Tim thought that this man held nothing fearsome.

What Jenny thought about the staring contest was unknown. She spoke as though there was nothing else going on. "The FBI has been investigating a large organized crime ring centered in the Metro area. Its tendrils lead into counterfeiting money, drug dealing, arms dealing and cargo theft."

Fornell took over. "From what we've been able to tell, they've been around for years."

"Why haven't you done anything about them before?"

"We tried. The first agent we sent in undercover came back to us in pieces...literally."

Tim gulped, but didn't look away. "What is it that you need me to do?"

"Get into their organization as a computer tech. We need to know their plans, what they've _been_ doing in the past, what they're _going_ to do, what they're doing _now_. It will have to be long-term and obviously, we can't guarantee that you won't end up the same way as our agent did."

Tim decided that games were over. He blinked once, smiled at the man sitting across from him and focused on Fornell. "Why me? Why is NCIS involved?"

"Because they've expanded into the military, all levels, all branches," Gibbs said. "A shipment of Interceptors en route to the Middle East were stolen last month. It's been linked to this same group."

Tim looked at Gibbs once more, asking permission to be slightly rude. Gibbs nodded slightly, but his eyes held a warning: _Don't get carried away._

Tim nodded slightly in response. "So...is this meeting for you to _test_ me or is it for me to accept your request?"

Jenny did smile that time, but she spoke again in the same business-like tone. "A very good question. Paul...did you want to answer that?"

"What kind of hacking experience do you have?"

Tim's eyes widened just for a second. "More than you do, I think," he said and then tried not to look at anyone he knew. Inside his head, he couldn't believe what he had just said.

To his surprise, the man laughed. "Point taken. Undercover work is strictly voluntary, Agent McGee. You can choose _not_ to do this, but if you take it and you screw it up...on the off chance they don't kill you first, I most certainly will."

Tim nodded. "I see." He looked at Gibbs once more, trying to decide if he actually _wanted_ Tim to accept the assignment. Gibbs was giving away nothing. "When do I start?"

"Right now, Agent McGee," Fornell said, standing quickly. "Come with me."

Tim nodded and stood. Gibbs followed. Once they reached the relative safety of the outer office, Tim looked at the other two. "Um...do I want to know who I was...antagonizing in there?"

"Probably not, Agent McGee," Fornell said.

"That bad?" Tim asked, feeling a little ill.

"Probably worse, McGee," Gibbs said, but _he_ was smiling. "Think...high-ranking DHS."

"How high?"

"He's not the _head_ of DHS."

Tim closed his eyes. "Oh..."

"You got guts, kid. You'll need 'em," Fornell said. "I wasn't kidding before. You sure you know what you're getting into?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Present..._

The Crying Man roused again, too weak to scream, but too sick to know where he was. He twisted and turned on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position, trying to get away from the fever and the pain.

"Too late. Can't...go...back," he mumbled, his eyes closed. "Everything is...ruined...nothing left."

"It is not too late, Tagi," Luka said. "You told me that it is never too late. I am sure that you can still do something."

Then, The Crying Man's eyes flew open. He stared around and then looked off into the distance. "Abby! The car! ...no! No...stop! NO! No! Help!" He began to writhe and Noelani tried to hold him down.

Then, the door flew open, letting in more than the wind and rain. Three people with guns, burst into the room. Without thinking, Luka and Malaki arranged themselves in front of the bed while Noelani tried to get The Crying Man to calm down. He was begging for help, his words interspersed with incoherent ramblings.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_17 months ago..._

"You could still back out, you know, McGee," Tony said.

"I'm not going to back out, Tony. How many times do I have to tell you?" Tim asked. He was still rather discomfited by his newly shorn head, but he didn't show it. He was heading off to his new apartment in a few hours. It was fully wired and he had been trained, briefed, rebriefed and briefed some more by a slew of people who all seemed to think he was destined to either screw up or die...or maybe both. It wasn't exactly confidence-boosting.

"This is huge for your first undercover op, McGee."

"He is right," Ziva said. "This will take many months...if it works at all."

Tim sighed. "Guys, I know all that. Gibbs doesn't seem to have a problem with it. Neither does Fornell. Do you really think that I'm going to screw up that badly?"

"Nothing ever goes perfectly undercover, McGee," Ziva said. "Something always goes wrong, no matter _how_ good you may be."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Present..._

"Who are you?" the younger Samoan asked. He looked frightened but in no way surrendering.

"I might ask you the same question," Tony said. "What are you doing to McGee?"

The woman turned. "You must be Agent DiNozzo...the one I spoke to on the phone."

Tony hesitated. "Noelani...right?"

"Yes," Noelani said. "Malaki, Luka, it is all right. These must be the NCIS people."

Luka relaxed, but Malaki did not. "Let me see your badges, first."

Gibbs straightened and put his gun away. "Here. I'm Gibbs."

Malaki looked carefully at the badge and then he nodded and smiled. "I am Malaki. This is Luka. You are here to see 'Olo'o Tagata Tagi...or I suppose we must call him Timothy McGee, now."

"He's there! He's right there!" Tim suddenly shouted. "No! I can't...I won't! Help! Boss!"

He was not looking at the team. He was simply staring, his eyes bright with fever. Ziva almost couldn't believe that it _was_ Tim. His hair was growing back, but he was darkly tanned and his hair was bleached by the sun...and at the moment, he was most definitely ill, bathed in sweat and fighting the gently restraining arms of Noelani.

Gibbs strode over to the bed, leaned over and gently smacked Tim on the back of the head. Noelani gave him a surprised glance, but it seemed to temporarily knock Tim back into the real world.

He blinked and took a shaky breath. "B-Boss? You? Where?"

"We just got here, McGee. Do you know who shot you?"

Noelani, Luka and Malaki discretely withdrew and went to find Dr. Sivali, giving Tim's friends a chance to talk with him...if Tim was able to focus long enough to speak.

Tim seemed to be trying to focus, but when Tony approached the bed, he suddenly said, "Tony! I didn't...I can't shoot you! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! They...it's..."

Gibbs smacked him again and Tim closed his eyes as his mind sifted through the various realities being presented to find the right one.

"Who shot you, McGee?"

"The gun...the...the...car! Abby! No!"

"Abby's fine, McGee," Tony said. "I'm fine."

"Calm down, McGee," Ziva said. "We are all fine."

Tim reached out, still panting, and grabbed Gibbs' arm. "Please...don't...it's...he's there! He's there! I can see him!"

"No one is there, McGee. Ziva's right. We're fine and you're safe."

"Hot..."

"That's because you have a fever," Tony said.

Tim seemed to relax finally and he sank back against the bed, still shifting position almost constantly. He subsided to only whispered murmurs that never quite ceased.

"We're not going to get anything from him like this, Boss," Tony said.

Gibbs stared at Tim and had to agree. They were going nowhere until Tim's fever broke.

"So...you have identified The Crying Man?"

Gibbs straightened quickly when the door swung violently open again and saw...another Samoan. The violence was due to the wind whipping through the complex.

"I apologize for the noise. The storm is picking up. I am Dr. Solinuu Sivali. Noelani told me that you came and said that you knew him."

Ziva looked at Noelani who flushed slightly and did not meet anyone's gaze. Tony looked at Ziva and arched an eyebrow.

"Yes, his name is Timothy McGee," Gibbs said. "He's an NCIS agent. We've been looking for him for the last eight months."

"I wish you could have found him in better condition. If you wouldn't mind stepping out into the hallway, Afioga and I need to change...Timothy's dressing and we will be changing his antibiotics in hopes of fighting off the infection."

"Can we not stay with him?" Ziva asked.

"I am sorry. There is just not enough room for you all. We will let you know when we finish. Please?"

Gibbs looked as though he wasn't going to listen, but one glance at Tim's pallor, even with his dark tan, told him that he wouldn't be doing Tim any good by keeping Dr. Sivali from doing his job. He nodded and eased himself out into the windswept hallway.

The six of them looked at each other for a long moment.

"You didn't tell anyone who he was?" Tony asked finally.

Malaki shook his head. "We do not know who attacked 'Olo...Timothy. We knew he must have reasons for concealing his identity and we did not wish to break his silence without his permission. ...but you know him. You may tell the police whatever is necessary after the storm passes."

"How do you all know him?" Gibbs asked.

"He lived here for six months, Gibbs," Noelani said, smiling. "It would have been more difficult for us _not_ to know him, at least a little. Everyone knows _of_ him. He shopped in Malaki's store, helped Luka study for his SATs and...I was nosy."

A door burst open and the wind and rain lashed through. Luka quickly ran and pulled the door closed once more.

"Aren't you worried about the storm?"

Malaki smiled. "This is nothing. So long as the cyclone does not change direction, we will only catch the edge. We are on the far end of the hospital and away from the shore. There will be some flooding and some houses destroyed, but we will be all right."

Another rumble of thunder shook the walls.

"But I still do not like them," Luka said.

Tony chuckled. "Good. I was beginning to feel like a wuss for being worried."

"It is easier to worry about a storm than to worry about a friend," Noelani said softly, looking back toward Tim's room. They all fell silent and waited for a miracle.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_Twelve months ago..._

Tim stumbled into his apartment...or rather, he stumbled into Tyler Mackay's apartment. It had been a _very_ long day. Still, he couldn't sleep just yet. Instead, he did a routine sweep to make sure there were no surveillance devices and then, sat down on the couch and pulled out his phone...his _other_ phone.

"_McGee, if you are calling to tell me that you screwed up again, I'm going to kill you myself."_

Tim struggled not to wince. He had _not_ been doing a very good job lately. Four months as Tyler and he _still_ was slipping up.

Not this time, however. "No, Boss."

"_Then, what is it?"_

"I'm in...I think."

"_You think?"_

"They came for me this morning, dragged me out of bed and into a car. I just got back."

"_You've been out of contact for sixteen hours, McGee!"_

"I know. It was...a job interview...of a sort."

"_In what way?"_

"I think they said something along the lines of if I didn't pass, I'd be dead."

"_So...I take it you passed?"_

"It looks like it...unless I'm somehow communicating from beyond the grave." Tim knew his time as Tyler was affecting his attitude. Pretending to be someone else was hard...particularly if he didn't want to actually_ become_ Tyler. They had decided to make Tyler someone who's main flaw was a problem with authority. He broke the law because of the rush it gave him to flaunt his prowess. Tim found that, occasionally, he was allowing that particular trait come out in his other interactions. He wasn't sure what the others thought of it...and he hadn't dared ask.

"_Good job, McGee."_ Gibbs actually seemed surprised, and Tim fought down the annoyance that came whenever someone didn't expect him to do well. You'd think that they would realize by now that he hadn't gotten where he was because of his pretty smile.

"Thanks, Boss," Tim said, but he knew he sounded a bit sullen.

"_You think you'll be out of contact regularly now?"_

"I'm not sure. They told me that I had to talk to someone else first."

"_Who?"_

"No name yet, Boss. He's apparently the guy I'll be reporting to. I'm sure they've already run the background check, but I don't know what to expect yet."

"_Keep it up...and remember one thing, McGee."_

Tim rolled his eyes, grateful that he wasn't reporting in person this time. "What's that?"

"_Don't blow your cover. You do whatever it takes to preserve it...whatever it takes."_

"Yes, Boss."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Present..._

Tim's fever finally broke around midnight and he slipped into a deeper sleep, one that did not have the muttering and anxiety of his previous attempts at sleep. Still, the storm raged outside, shaking the walls. So far, there had been no deviation of the storm track and Tutuila was getting only the far edge of Hettie's wrath. Fiji had been hit hard and Tonga was dealing with high storm surges. The predicted path had Hettie missing Samoa and American Samoa directly. Everyone prayed that was correct as Hettie gained in strength, feeding on the warm tropical waters.

"What do you think?" Tony whispered.

"About what?" Ziva asked. The two of them were staring at Tim as he slept. Gibbs was getting a meteorological update.

"McGee...being here."

"I don't know."

"Do you really think he felt guilty about shooting me?"

"I don't know."

Tony stood up and started pacing. "Well, what _do_ you know, David?"

Ziva looked at Tim. "Not very much, Tony. Right now, I only know that I am very happy that McGee is alive."

"You thought he was dead?"

"Didn't you?"

"No..." It wasn't very certain.

"I never thought that McGee would stay away from everyone if he was still alive. He did not even tell his family where he was."

"Yeah..."

Tim stirred restlessly. He was still running a temperature of 102 degrees, but that was already two degrees lower than he'd been a couple of hours before. Involuntarily, Tony and Ziva both looked toward the bed. Tim's eyes dragged lazily open. He stared at them blankly and then his eyes closed again. Asleep again. They both sighed.

"I can't decide whether I want to beat him senseless or hug him," Tony said.

Ziva grinned. "You? Hug McGee?"

"You're right. I'll probably beat him senseless."

"You will not...but neither will you hug him, I am sure."

"What makes you the expert?"

Ziva shrugged. "I do not have to be the expert. You are worried, just like we all are worried." She reached out to change the cloth on Tim's forehead. "There is nothing wrong with that."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Ten months ago..._

"I _told_ you already," Tim said, knowing he was sounding belligerent, but not caring enough to take it back. He was tired. He was dirty. He really didn't care what these well-fed bureaucrats had to say. "They're still watching me too closely. I don't dare do any real hacking until they trust me a little more."

Jenny caught the tone, but she didn't comment on it. She looked at the others and then at Gibbs. Some sort of non-vocal communication must have passed between them because Gibbs stood up.

"McGee, with me."

"Yes, Boss," Tim said. He followed Gibbs to the door and then turned back. He looked at Jenny, at Fornell, at the others involved in the operation. "I'm doing my best. If you want me to pretend that I can do it all, say the word...and you can tell my family that I died doing my job."

"That will be _all_, Agent McGee," Jenny said, her voice stern.

"Yes, ma'am," Tim said, nearly disrespectful...not quite. Then, he walked out. As soon as the door closed behind him, he felt so tired. All he wanted to do was go home and sleep...wait. No, he wanted to shower for five hours and then sleep for another twenty hours. Between the reports they kept asking for and the random moments when he was called on to work, it was a wonder he was getting any sleep at all. The stinging headslap he felt as he walked out of the office was not unexpected.

"McGee, are you _trying_ to get fired?" Gibbs asked.

"No, Boss."

"Then, what's with shooting off your mouth every time you get in with those guys?"

Tim rubbed his temple with the heel of his hand and started to walk down the stairs back to the bullpen. "I'm just so tired, Boss. They keep asking for meetings, even though I've said more than once that when I know something, I'll tell them. Then, Errol keeps showing up at my apartment because they need me to _do_ something for them. I can count on one hand the number of hours of sleep I've had in the last three days." He stopped on the first landing and pointed back up to the office. "All they seem to care about is whether or not I get results. How can I _get_ any results if they won't leave me alone? Boss, I'm trying. I really am, but every time I go in there now, all I see are a bunch of talking heads who don't know anything outside of that office...of _their_ offices...and I'm sick of it."

Tim shook his head and continued down to the bullpen. He stopped at his desk, looking at it with longing. He really would love to be back here more often, but he couldn't do that.

"Hey, McGee, you packing for a trip?"

Tim blinked and shoved down the annoyance. Tony was not to blame for his current bad mood. "What?"

"The bags under your eyes. They're getting big enough for a summer getaway."

Tim didn't laugh. "You done? Cause I have work to do." He grabbed his bag and headed for the elevator.

Tony followed him. "Hey, McGee!"

"What, Tony," Tim said, more resigned than anything. He could sense Gibbs hovering nearby and he got the feeling that their conversation wasn't done yet.

Tony seemed to look beyond him, confirming Tim's suspicions that Gibbs was behind him. He just shrugged. "You're...doing fine, McGee."

It sounded so insincere that Tim just laughed in disbelief. "Thanks, Tony," he said cynically. "I'm grateful for your support."

The elevator door opened and he got on, knowing that Gibbs would as well. ...he wasn't disappointed. The elevator jerked to a stop and Tim took a deep breath before turning around.

"Yes, Boss?"

"Can you handle this, McGee?"

_At least, he's being up front about it,_ Tim thought to himself. "Handle what, Boss? My job? Those idiots upstairs? Being undercover? Tony's wisecracks?" He laughed...but there was no humor in it. He was just so tired. "Which is it? There are so many things you could be asking about." Tim was surprised that he felt like crying. He had gone from angry to depressed in about two seconds.

Gibbs didn't answer, neither did he wallop Tim upside the head as he probably deserved. He just stared.

Tim reached his hand up to rub it through his hair...the hair he'd shaved off. It was weird to be back to the buzz he'd indulged in a couple of years before. He supposed that it made him look more the part, but he definitely didn't prefer it. After a few seconds, Gibbs still hadn't spoken.

"Boss? Are you done? I have to go."

Gibbs just stared a bit longer and Tim sighed, not wanting to start crying in front of his boss.

"McGee."

"What, Boss?" Tim asked and was annoyed at how plaintive that sounded.

"For the next week, you call in when _you_ need to."

"What?"

"It's about time we started trusting you to do the job we asked you to do. So...if anyone besides myself or Tobias calls you...ignore it. If you have something that needs saying, you do the calling. Got it?"

"Yes, Boss."

"Good. Now, go and get some sleep because DiNozzo's right. You look like crap."

Tim actually smiled a little. "Thanks, Boss."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Present..._

When Gibbs returned to Tim's room, Tony's head was beginning to tilt backwards in an alarming fashion. Ziva's head was slowly sinking downward toward the bed. He laughed and they both jumped.

"Tired?"

Tony yawned. "No, Boss. How's Hettie?"

"Still on course. Looks like she'll miss us. Iopu said that we can count our many blessings. When Heta hit in 2004, it caused quite a bit of damage. They didn't even have drinking water for days."

"I thought he was going back to the airport," Ziva said, rubbing her eyes.

"Couldn't. The road was completely flooded. He decided to stay and help out." Gibbs looked at them both. It had been a very long day for them all. Six hours longer than it should have been. "Did he wake up at all?"

"Opened his eyes once...I don't think he really woke up though."

Gibbs nodded. "You two might as well sleep somewhere else."

"I am fine, Gibbs," Ziva said...and yawned widely.

"No, you're not. You're drooling on him," Gibbs said and grinned as Ziva blushed. "And _you_," he said to Tony, "are on the verge of snapping your own neck."

"No way."

"Look there are two empty rooms next door. Go and use the beds. I'll get you if he wakes up."

"What about you?"

"I slept on the plane."

Tony rolled his eyes, but stood and stretched. "Okay, okay." He yawned. "Just...yeah, I'm going to sleep...if Hettie'll let me."

"I don't think you'll have that problem," Gibbs said drily.

"I will not share a room with Tony. He snores."

"Yeah, and you make the same sound as semis do when they downshift on the highway," Tony retorted.

Gibbs headslapped them both and sent them out. He knew they didn't want to leave. He knew they were still worried. So was he, truth be told...but it wouldn't do any good for them to exhaust themselves sitting there waiting. They might as well get some rest. He sat down in the chair Ziva had vacated and looked at Tim's pale face. Then, he settled back to wait, listening to the wind and rain, feeling the thunder as it crashed overhead.

Tim would wake up when he was ready.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_Nine months ago..._

Tim sat at the computer...alone. It was the moment they'd all been waiting for. The moment that he could finally start doing what he'd been asked to do...hack into their system. It wasn't enough to get one part of the crime ring. It was like the Hydra. If they cut off one part, three more would spring up in its place. They needed to know the full extent of the network, the major parties involved. They needed to know just _where_ they were planning on going. Tim being able to get into the files was key to that success. Carefully...very carefully, he began to plow through their servers. He was doing the work they had asked of him..._and_ he was looking at their network.

It took a lot of time because he didn't dare do much all at once, but slowly, he began to feed information back to NCIS. Sometimes, he was able to send it directly from the very servers he was hacking, but most of the time, he had to find some way to copy the files and smuggle them out of the building. Maintaining his cover as Tyler became both easier and more difficult. On the one hand, he felt as though he could present a fairly convincing scumbag, but on the other, he was more and more tense every time he hacked into their servers, every time he took something else from them. He was terrified that they would see guilt radiating from his eyes.

He wondered how much longer he could do this without having a meltdown.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Present..._

Tim awoke to a feeling of burning. His entire body felt too hot, but his side was its own special mass of burning agony. He tried to shift position...without moving. It didn't work. To distract himself, he tried to figure out where he was. It was dark...and quite noisy. That didn't help...but the bed felt...familiar. He struggled to keep his mind clear and lucid. He was...in a hospital...maybe. The last thing he remembered was seeing Gibbs...and Tony and Ziva, but that was impossible because he was on Tutuila and they were in DC. No, that must have been part of his delirium or whatever. There was no way that Gibbs could possibly be...

"McGee, are you awake?"

Tim didn't open his eyes, but he couldn't believe the voice he was hearing.

"McGee?"

"Boss?" This had to be a dream. It _had_ to be. There was no way that Gibbs could have any idea where he was. No way. He'd been too careful.

"McGee, if you're awake, open your eyes."

That seemed like a reasonable request. "You're..." Tim stopped, catching his breath as pain lanced through him. His hand went to his side, pressing down on the bandage as if that would make the pain go away. "...you're really here? I'm not dreaming this?"

"I doubt it."

Tim opened his eyes, slowly, expecting Gibbs to melt away as he did so. ...that didn't happen. Gibbs stayed right where he was, staring at Tim, larger than life. Tim almost smiled. He almost said how incredibly happy he was to see Gibbs, to know that he wasn't dealing with everything all on his own anymore...but as he stared at Gibbs, the words stuck in his throat and died unsaid.

"Tony...Ziva? Are they here, too?"

"Yeah. Sleeping in the next room."

So far, Gibbs hadn't said much, hadn't revealed much and Tim felt so...confused by his presence. He tried to sit up and actually gasped as his side flared up again.

"I'd better go get them. They wanted to know when you woke up." Gibbs opened the door and a gale of wind rushed into the room.

"Wait!" Tim said with more oomph than he thought he had. He paid for it, however. His side burned hotter.

Gibbs stopped and turned around. His eyes were curiously blank. Tim had the feeling that there was a lot of emotion in the air, but neither one was acknowledging it.

"What, McGee?"

"How did you know I was here?"

"Your _friend_," Gibbs put a slight emphasis on _friend_, "Noelani called me at NCIS."

"How did she know to call you? How did she know I was NCIS? I never told anyone."

"You _apparently_ asked for me, and they found your badge and gun and your wallet after you got shot. It's not too hard to find a phone number for NCIS."

"Right." Tim wasn't sure what else to say. _I asked for Gibbs?_ That seemed odd, but then, the waking nightmares of the last few days came back to him. _I did. I begged him for help...like I wanted to so many times. No filter to hold back how I feel._

Gibbs turned back and opened the door...but suddenly he slammed it closed, even against the gale and he turned back around...and he was mad. He was furious.

"Tell me something, McGee."

"What, Boss?" Tim asked and tried to shift in bed again. He winced, but Gibbs didn't appear to notice.

"Tell me why it is that you left us all hanging for _eight months_, why you didn't tell any of us that you were still alive, why you didn't even tell your _family_ that you weren't dead! Tell me why it is that you ran away, why you cared so little for the rest of us."

"It..." Tim had to stop as the pain washed over him again. "It wasn't like that, Boss." He could feel the tears, the fear that he'd lived with for so long surging to the forefront of his mind.

"Then, tell me what it _was_ like, McGee!"

"Boss...I..."

"Because I don't like what I have to conclude otherwise."

Tim didn't want to tell him...but he did at the same time. He didn't want to have to do this anymore, but he was afraid...so terribly afraid. He said nothing.

"I have to assume that you ran away from DC because of your guilt and self-pity, because you cared more about hiding from what happened than about everyone else who worried about you. You left Abby alone in the ER for heaven's sake! You _left her alone!_ What am I supposed to conclude from that, McGee? It tells me that you are not the man I thought you were, that you are willing to leave everyone in limbo, to..."

Tim couldn't take the accusations. They caused him more pain than his wound did. He found the strength somewhere to lever himself up, leaning on one arm, his hand pressed hard against his side to stave off the pain.

"There...there are people trying to...to kill me, Boss!" Tim finally said, panting through the pain.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Eight months ago..._

"Tyler, out here! Now!"

Tim turned away from the computer with a start. "What?"

"Out here." It was one of a seemingly endless array of go-fers. The only difference between this crime ring and a normal company was the fact that this group was involved in smuggling (of people as well as of cargo), drug dealing, theft, illegal hacking. They even had their hands in a few of the gangs. Many of these go-fers were only temporary...but another glaring difference was the fact that if their employment didn't work out, they'd more than likely end up dead, not fired.

"I'm busy," he said and turned back to his work. It was an attitude they expected of him. He was supposed to be arrogant...and very good at what he did.

"Now!"

Tim made a show of sighing before he stood up and followed. When he walked into the garage and saw Tony there on the ground, his first thought was how annoying it was that they _still_ didn't trust him when he gave his reports. He had _told_ them over and over that intercepting this shipment with anything less than a full-scale assault would be foolish...although he had used the word _imbecilic_. When Jamison handed him the gun, he began to worry. He now had too many conflicting orders swirling around in his head: maintain his cover, prevent crime, protect his teammates. Which one should he follow here? Regardless, he _knew_ that there was no way he'd shoot Tony. He couldn't do that...not even if it meant his own death. As he looked around at the positions of the five others in the room, he accidentally met Tony's eyes. What he saw there hurt him. Tony was actually afraid that he, Timothy McGee, would shoot Tony, his friend and teammate. That hurt.

"What are you waiting for?" Larson asked. He wasn't a particularly high-ranking member, more on the security end than anything else. None of the leaders were here tonight. This was routine: kill the witness, test the newbie. One dead body or two. No big deal.

"For you to shut up," Tim snarled. "Just because I'm going to do this, doesn't mean that I have to like it."

"You're running out of time," Larson said, but he relaxed a bit, lowered his guard...all the better.

Tim knew that he was running out of time. He took a step toward Tony, wishing he could warn him of what was about to happen. Hopefully, he'd figure it out fairly quickly. Otherwise, this would more than likely be for nothing. Tim took a deep breath and carefully aimed...at the man standing behind Tony. That man, along with Jamison, hit the ground, dead, before anyone realized what was happening. Tim lost sight of Tony after shoving him over. He spun around and got the go-fer at the door. Then, he turned toward Larson, firing as he did so...but instead of Larson, it was Tony. Somehow in those few seconds, Larson had grabbed Tony to use him as a human shield. Tim just didn't have the time to register it before he had grazed Tony's temple and, worse, fired a slug into his torso, just below the clavicle. Tony's eyes were wide and he managed a strangled, "Tim..." before Larson dropped him. Tim didn't have time to think. He fired twice more and Larson was dead.

The room was too quiet. Tim spun around...and around. Four bodies, plus Tony. Four. One got away. Tim knew that was it. He had pretty thoroughly botched the operation, but he pushed that thought to the side. Saving Tony now took precedence over everything else. He knelt beside his unconscious friend, pulled out his phone and called for help...and backup.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Then, suddenly, he was in Jenny's office. He wasn't sure how it had happened. He had no memory of anything after pulling off his shirt and using it to bandage Tony's wound as best he could. He knew, logically, that he must have gone to the hospital, that he had stopped off somewhere to get another shirt, that someone must have brought him back to NCIS, but he didn't remember. He just sat and stared at the important people all yelling at him, threatening him with various things. It was all a wash of words that meant so little. When they finally stopped, he looked at Jenny.

"Is Tony going to be all right?" he asked. That threatened to start it all up again, but Jenny had a concerned look on her face as she told him that she hadn't heard from Gibbs yet. She then excused him. Tim walked out without another word. It was surreal as he went down to the bullpen. He sat down at his desk and wondered what he was supposed to do now.

"McGee?"

Tim jumped a little. Ziva was looking at him worriedly.

"Yeah?" Tim asked. "What?"

"Are you all right?"

"Sure. I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be? I blew ten months of work and possibly killed a friend in less than a minute."

"Did they–?"

"Fire me? I don't think so. I wasn't really listening."

"Why didn't you stay at the hospital?"

Tim blinked. "Did I come back here on my own?"

"Yes. Do you not remember?"

Tim wondered what the right answer to that question was. Certainly, he didn't remember, but he also didn't want to admit that.

"Agent McGee!"

Tim looked away from Ziva's concerned expression and met Jenny's equally concerned expression as she rounded the corner and approached his desk.

"Ma'am?"

"I just got off the phone with Gibbs. He said that Tony is likely to be in surgery for several more hours...and he said that you knew that when you left. Are you all right?"

"It...must have slipped my...mind, Director," Tim said. In truth, his mind was so wild at the moment, he could easily believe that he had slipped into some sort of autopilot. "Director...I'm so sorry. I screwed up and..."

"McGee," her voice was too kind, "I am not down here to reprimand you. I think you should go home and take a break. Come back tomorrow when you've rested."

Tim looked at her with frightened eyes. "Should...should I..." His hands reached for his badge and gun. "I will...if I should. I know that I messed up everything that we've been doing and..."

"Agent McGee. Go home. Sleep. Come back tomorrow. Do you understand?"

Tim nodded. "Yes, ma'am." He stood up, feeling exhaustion suddenly settle in his head and muffle up his mind. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket...and felt the flash drive he'd secreted there just before going out to the garage. "Ma'am?"

"What, McGee?"

"I...This is the last thing I got off their computers before...before I shot Tony." He heard Ziva gasp in surprise. "I forgot about it. I'm sorry." He held it out. She took it without any anger.

"Thank you, McGee. Now, go home."

"Yes, ma'am." Tim watched her leave and with a level of...what? Relief? Dread? He couldn't figure out his own mental state. He bent over to pick up his bag.

"You shot Tony?" Ziva asked. "What happened?"

Tim straightened and he met Ziva's concerned gaze. He wanted to start sobbing, to fall into her arms and be comforted by someone instead of harangued, but he didn't do that.

"I was turning around to get Larson...and he pulled Tony in front of him. I didn't see it until...until it was too late."

"I'm sorry, McGee." Ziva put out her hand, but Tim evaded it and walked to the elevator. He wanted to go home. He heard Ziva say something behind him about his badge and gun, but he didn't want them. He just wanted to go home, sleep, and wake up tomorrow to find that none of this had ever happened. ...ever.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Present..._

There was a moment when the only sound in the room came from the rolling thunder and the wind against the walls. Tim was taking short shallow breaths, but he didn't speak again. Gibbs stood silently by the door. Then, finally, he walked over to the bed and pushed Tim gently down onto his back again. He sat down.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice soft, barely audible over the roar of the storm.

Tim took a long breath and let it out slowly, trying not to cry.

"Tell me what you mean, McGee."

"They...they put a contract out on me," Tim finally said. His voice was so soft that Gibbs had to lean forward to hear him. "There's a...an open contract. Whoever kills me gets paid. I know of three people who are trying to kill me."

Gibbs sat back, stunned. They'd had no idea. The FBI, DHS, they hadn't known.

"How did you find out, Tim?"

"I...I got caught. The...the night Abby got..." Tim couldn't finish the sentence, even so many months later. "I did leave the ER, but it was because I knew that you would all be coming. Tony was still on the edge... and I needed figure out what I was going to say."

"What do you mean?"

"I know who tried to ram her. It was Errol and one of his cronies. They stopped to make sure I saw them...it told me that they really _did_ know who I was. They wanted me to know that they knew. I went home to...to try and write up a description and...I had to think about what I'd say. He was there."

"Who?"

"I don't know his name. He calls himself the Sphinx...in Greek mythology, the Sphinx was a symbol of death. He wasn't very amused when I told him that the Sphinx was female." Tim almost smiled, but not quite. "I was going to go back to the hospital to tell you everything...but he was there. He'd packed one of my bags."

"Why?"

"It's how he works. Why kill someone and let everyone know that they've been killed? Much better to..." Tim winced again. "...to make it look as though they ran away. You don't investigate as hard when you're not sure a crime has been committed. Most of the time, his marks don't show up for years, if they do at all. He even bought me plane tickets to...to Moscow. No extradition."

Tim was looking at his lap. Although Gibbs had seen him in the depths of his illness, he suddenly looked much worse. He looked beaten down and tired.

"He knocked me out and took me...somewhere. I still don't remember where I was when I woke up."

"Why didn't he just kill you?"

"No evidence of a struggle...and he had to..." The tears were as close to the surface as they had ever been. "He...takes possession of his marks, brands them like cattle."

"Brands them?"

Tim nodded, his hand finally straying from his side to his shoulder. He lifted up the sleeve, revealing a poorly healed scar larger than his palm.

"You can't see it now. Um...I...bought some sandpaper and...I..." He gasped again and put his hand back on his side. The sleeve covered the scar again. "It was a sphinx. He brands his marks and then takes a picture of them once they're dead."

"So...where did he screw up?"

"He...left his laptop where I could reach it. I was desperate, not really thinking. I just grabbed it and swung it around as hard as I could...and I hit him. I think...it's personal now. I know what he looks like, and I got away. I just...I grabbed my bag and the plane tickets and went to the airport. He had told me that he was glad he got to me first because there were a couple of others in the area who had started hunting when word got out. All I could think of was that...he was going to kill me, that the others would kill me. I just started running."

Gibbs didn't know what to say.

Then, Tim finally looked at Gibbs directly. "I did run away, Boss, but it wasn't like you think. I started running...and I didn't know how to stop. I don't know how to stop...because..." He tried to hold back the tears, but he couldn't. "...because it won't ever stop..." Tears began to run down his cheeks. "...not until I'm...dead." And for the first time in eight months, The Crying Man started crying.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_Eight months ago..._

"_Tim! I'm not going to take no for an answer. If you don't come out here, I'm going to go down into the street and start screaming your name!"_

"_Abby, please..."_

"_No, Tim. You need to get out of your negative head space."_

_Tim opened the door. He hadn't slept. His mind was running laps and refused to settle, even though he was exhausted._

"_Please, Abby...I can't do this tonight...maybe not ever."_

_Abby was surprised at how listless Tim seemed. Gibbs had said he was having trouble, but he hadn't mentioned just how _much_ trouble._

"_You need this, Tim...even if you don't think you do. Come on. Nothing big, just some time."_

_Finally, he nodded. "Okay. Okay, Abbs. I just need my shoes." True to his word, less than a minute later, he was coming out of the apartment._

_Abby led him down and out to the street. She stepped between a couple of cars and began to cross to her own. She didn't see the car with its headlights off. She didn't notice it suddenly speed toward her. Her mind was on getting Tim back in the saddle. _

"_Abby!" Tim's voice was agony itself. Abby looked back toward him, but her attention was arrested halfway there by the car that was so close to her...that was not slowing down, but increasing its speed. It was almost to her. She froze. Just before it reached her, she felt herself jerked violently to the side, but even so, the side-view mirror caught her a glancing blow and she hit the ground hard after it passed. The world started to go fuzzy, but the last thing she saw was Tim. He wasn't looking at her. He was holding her hand, but he was looking away, down the road._

"_Tim?"_

_His eyes turned down toward her and the last thing she heard was him saying, "Abby, stay with me. Please, please, don't die on me."_

_Abby wanted to say that she wasn't going to die, but her mouth didn't seem to be working. Everything went dark._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat up in bed barely stifling a scream of pain, emotional pain, Abby's name on his lips. The physical pain was going to come later. He looked around the dingy hotel room. He wished more than anything that he was back in DC, that he had stayed with Abby. His dreams were full of Abby and her close call, Tony and his face as Tim had shot him...of the Sphinx, _his_ face twisted in a kind of sadistic glee as he brought the glowing brand downward onto his skin. Tim winced involuntarily. He looked at the sandpaper he'd purchased in London. That was...three flights ago. He looked around the room. It was small, even by a podunk hotel's standards, but it had a sink. He was going to need it. He'd been putting off the task for far too long.

Slowly, Tim stood and walked the two steps to the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. He was losing weight fast. Probably too fast. He sure didn't _feel_ healthy. His bare chest wasn't anything for the ladies to ooh and aah over either. He looked at his shoulder. He _needed_ to do this. It was too obvious. He had no idea how far-reaching the Sphinx was. Not even the laptop Tim had mindlessly stolen had that information on it. Anyone at any time could see that brand and _know_ that Tim was on the run.

_How much will this take?_ Tim wondered. Would it hurt as much as that near miss, when the man had come at him with a knife? More? _Can I really do this to myself?_

Tim had no idea, never being into self-mutilation before. He turned on the water, clenched his teeth tightly and brought the sandpaper up to his shoulder. He couldn't do it. The scabs were large and infected. The brand already hurt. He knew he was going to make it worse. He stood frozen, staring at himself in the mirror for about ten minutes.

"Don't be such a weakling, Tim," he whispered to himself. "It has to be done. No one can do it for you. No one. You have no one but yourself...and today you need to move on. Do it!"

Seemingly of its own accord, the sandpaper scraped across his skin. Tim wanted to scream, but he held it in as tears of pain blurred his vision. He scraped harder and harder, seeing the blood begin to trickle down his arm as he scraped away the skin, the scabs, scraped away the physical evidence of the price on his head. The pain brought him to his knees, a low moan breaking free of the barriers he'd set up. Still, he scraped. He used up one piece and started with another, running the sandpaper back and forth with a shaking hand, scraping until there was no way of telling that there had been a sphinx branded into his skin...all that remained was a large open wound...and the blood pouring down his arm, dripping onto the floor. The bloody sandpaper dropped from his hands to the floor as Tim leaned his forehead against the edge of the sink and tried not to be sick, tried not to pass out...tried not to cry.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Your agent screwed this whole thing up! He ran! The facts are staring you in the face!"_

_Jenny actually smiled. "Actually, the only thing in my face is you, Paul...and it's not a sight I'm greatly appreciating."_

_Paul turned from Jenny to Gibbs who had been doing remarkably well at keeping his temper. Abby had nearly been run over, Tony was still unconscious, and now Tim was missing and being accused of being a traitor. He was doing rather well..._

"_You people are ridiculous. No wonder NCIS is the laughing stock of the federal agencies! You hire incompetent fools who turn tail and run after ruining nearly a year of work! You can't even admit that..."_

_Gibbs snapped. He grabbed Paul by his lapels and rammed him against the table. "You had better shut your mouth. The only incompetent fool I can see is you! Agent McGee did not _run_! He is more loyal to his ideals than any man I've ever known. He would not turn on his country. He would not be bribed. He is not corrupt. If he is missing, it is because something has happened to him, not because he has done something wrong."_

"_You're pathetic."_

"_No. You're the pathetic one. McGee _told_ you more than once that you needed a real team to take that shipment...but you ignored him!"_

"_He shot your Agent DiNozzo. He admitted it."_

"_DiNozzo was there because _you_ sent him there. Everything that has gone wrong in this op has come from _you_. Agent McGee was doing his best, but you seemed determined to tear down everything he did."_

_Jenny finally intervened. "Agent Gibbs! Please, I think you got your point across."_

_Gibbs stared at Paul for a few more seconds before releasing him. They stared daggers at each other before Paul retreated. Jenny closed the door gently behind him._

"_Jenny!"_

"_Don't start with me, Jethro. You have to admit that it looks bad. We know that McGee left the ER of his own volition. What happened after that is anyone's guess, but his passport, his ID, some of his clothes...they're all gone. It looks bad. You have to admit that."_

"_No, Jen, I don't have to admit that. With someone else, maybe I would, but not with McGee. He wouldn't turn his back on us...and he would _never_ leave his family in the dark. Something happened."_

"_I agree, but we have no proof here."_

"_We don't need any. Innocent until proven guilty...at least last I checked."_

_Jenny just sighed. "How is Abby?"_

"_Fine. She got a concussion and a couple of bruised ribs, but she'll be fine. Tony should come around. Did McGee really mess it up?"_

"_We don't know for certain. He gave me his flash drive. It's still being analyzed. He put quite a bit on there. Who knows anything at this point?"_

"_We know one thing. McGee is missing. Regardless of the reason...we need to get him back. We need to find him."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Can you do it or not?" Tim asked, impatient beyond measure.

"Of course, I can."

"Good. Get on with it."

"It will take some time."

"I'll pay you extra if you do it while I'm standing here waiting."

"How much extra?"

"Double."

"Done!" The scuzzy forger picked up his camera. "Ready? Smile for the camera."

Tim did not smile. He felt that there was very little for him to smile about at this moment. The forger took his picture anyway. He took a couple of photos and went back to his computer to start working.

"How good do these things need to be?"

"Good enough to get me through customs."

"Planning a trip?"

Tim felt extremely irritated. He was running low on pretty much everything at the moment. Someone had found him much too quickly in Rome, forcing him to leave sooner than he had planned. It seemed that even though he was routinely hacking into the airport servers and deleting his information, he wasn't doing it fast enough. Having a fake ID would simply give him another layer of security.

"You writing a novel?"

"Nope."

"Then, shut up and do what I'm paying you for."

"Just trying to make some friendly conversation."

"I'm not paying you to talk. I'm paying you to work."

"Touchy."

Tim leaned over and put his gun to the man's throat. "Yes...I am very touchy. That's why you should just shut up."

The man stiffened. "_Si, senor_."

"Good." Tim withdrew, not showing how horrified he felt at having just threatened the man. The old Tim would never have done that...of course, the old Tim didn't have an unknown number of people trying to kill him either. One month. It had only been a month and Tim felt changed beyond measure. He'd lost a lot of weight and gained a few more wounds.

"From the US, _si_?"

"Yes."

"Name?"

"Trevor Macavoy."

"All right. Any preference on place of birth?"

"West Coast. Your choice."

Tim waited impatiently, checking his watch, trying to keep himself from peeking out the windows. A month of running, a month of pain had changed him quickly. He'd had to adapt...or he'd be dead. He'd never thought he could sink so low as to get fake IDs from a forger. However, when the finished products were in his hands, he felt nothing more than a sense of relief and a shadowy feeling of guilt. He paid the forger and left. In moments, he was back in the shady hotel. He spent a few more nights there before deciding that it was time to move on. When he woke up that morning, he couldn't remember for a moment where he was.

_Madrid_, his mind told him. He sat up, feeling the peculiar sense of dislocation that dogged his every move. This wasn't him. This wasn't Timothy McGee. It was...it was the work of a hunted animal: running, hiding, evading the hunters. He just felt so incredibly outnumbered and he was getting so tired.

Pushing the thought to the side, he sat up, feeling the stretching of the skin on his shoulder. He moved his hand to it. That moment in the bathroom in...whatever city he'd visited had marked the beginning of how his life had changed. He'd actually been ill for a few days at his next destination, running a slight fever. A kind woman running a small bed and breakfast type place had cared for him. He had basked in those few days where he could pretend that he wasn't alone...but then, reality had intruded and he had disappeared again, leaving only a note thanking her for her generosity and some money to cover expenses.

As he left the hotel, he automatically made his way to one of the hot tourist spots, the Royal Palace. As he mixed himself in with the tourists, he noticed that most of them gave him a wide berth. It was still a strange feeling to be the one people were afraid of. Tim wasn't used to being intimidating.

As he walked toward the street, intent on hailing a taxi and heading to Barajas International Airport, he saw a glint of metal. He turned toward it without thinking. Suddenly, the side of his head felt as though it was on fire and people were screaming and running. Tim ran as well, holding his hand to his head. He brought it down once and saw that it was red with blood. He struggled to push down the panic and he kept running.

"_Senor!_ Are you all right?" The voice was heavily accented, but Tim could understand him.

"I'm fine. Thank you...uh..._gracias_." Tim struggled to keep moving, wanting only to get away.

"You are bleeding, _senor_! Let me help you." There was a hand on his arm, supporting him. Tim needed that more than he'd like to admit.

"No, just...I just need to leave."

"No, _senor_, you cannot leave. You need help."

"No!" Tim tried to pull himself from the man's grip, but he felt so weak, and there was a dark curtain that kept sweeping in front of his vision.

"I will not harm you, _senor_. You will be safe...from the police _and_ from whoever shot at you."

Tim barely had a chance to register what the man had said before he was urged into a darkened room and pushed down onto a chair. Blood still poured down the side of his face. His vision cleared and he saw that he was in a bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror and wanted to cry. Half his face was bloody. The other half looked simply bewildered. In moments, an old Spanish man came back into the room with bandages and a bowl.

"Sit there. I will help you."

Tim felt no energy to do anything else and submitted to the man's ministrations. His hands were gentle as they stopped the blood flow and placed small bandages on his head. Tim closed his eyes wishing that he could stop, that it all could stop, but knowing that it couldn't. They had found him again...he would have to run.

"There. You will not win any prizes, _senor_, but I have stopped the bleeding." Tim felt the man pat his shoulder and he opened his eyes.

"_Gracias_...thank you," Tim whispered. He started to stand but wobbled as his head spun.

The old man pushed him back down. "I do not think you should be moving much yet, _senor_. This is a safe place. No one will find you."

"People are uncommonly good at finding me," Tim mumbled.

"Not here. You are safe."

Tim suddenly felt exhausted. "I have to go," he said vaguely. It was the shock. He knew that, but he was powerless to fight it.

"No, _senor_. You will sleep first. Rest. You will be better able to run if you rest while you can."

Tim lifted his head and met the man's gaze. "How did you–?"

The old man smiled. "You are running, _senor_. You know it. I know it. Never mind how. Now, sleep." He pulled Tim up with a strength belied by his thin wiry frame. Tim followed already half asleep and fell onto a bed. He didn't want to sleep, but he couldn't help it.

"How can I ever thank you?" Tim asked, falling quickly toward unconsciousness.

"You can get away, _senor_. Many do not."

Tim's eyes closed. When he woke up a few hours later, the house was empty. Tim panicked for a moment and searched his bag, but everything was in place and nothing had been added. He took some time to get online. There was a wireless connection that he tapped into. First, he checked the bank account he'd set up. It was still solvent. Then, he checked the airport's site. The next flight with available seats was heading to Sydney, Australia. That worked. He booked a ticket and in moments, he was gone.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Gibbs! There was something! I'm sure it must have been Tim. It must have been!" Abby announced. "I was looking at some stuff in the files and there was a blip. A short blip. It must have been Tim. It had to be him! Who else would be peeking in here? Some might think it was just a hiccup, but I know it wasn't."_

_Gibbs watched Abby as she paced back and forth, occasionally pointing to a section on the monitor that meant less to him than computers usually did._

"_After all...it's only been a month...okay, a month and a half. He's fine. Right? I mean, he's just...he just needed a break. So he left and he'll be back and we'll all laugh about it and..."_

_Gibbs walked to her and stopped her frantic pacing. He didn't speak...and soon Abby's ramble stuttered to a halt and she looked at him._

"_Where is he, Gibbs?"_

"_I don't know, Abbs."_

"_Why did he leave? Why did he leave us?"_

"_I don't know."_

"_I want him back!" Abby started to cry._

"_So do I, Abby. So do I." Gibbs pulled her into a hug._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Where am I this time?_ Tim wondered. It was becoming much too easy to forget. Even Sydney, a place he'd never been before in his entire life, had joined the mush of cities he'd visited over the last month and a half...or was it longer? Now...he was...he looked at the sign above him...oh, yeah. Bangkok. He'd been here for about a week and was thinking about moving on. The bag on his shoulder, like the man holding it, had seen much better days. It was shredded, holey, one of the zippers was broken...but he couldn't bring himself to get rid of it. It was a part of his former life and he wanted to keep it with him, much like he kept his badge and gun, even though it was dangerous and could result in him getting in huge trouble...or worse, discovered.

"Got ya." The voice in his ear was menacing, and, more importantly, it was a voice he hadn't heard before. Tim dropped his bag to the ground in apparent capitulation and the man relaxed for a second. That was all Tim needed with every reflex on high alert. He silently blessed rule nine and pulled out his knife. Without another thought, he rammed it backward under the man's arm and felt the blood staining his jacket. The man fell to the ground. Tim let him fall and dropped his jacket on top of him. He pulled the knife out of the man's gut, grabbed his bag and left. He didn't look back. He stopped at a bridge and tossed the knife into the water. He could buy another one elsewhere...wherever he went next.

_I can't do this anymore._ Tim felt terrible. He felt sick, repelled by his own actions. It was no use telling himself that it was self defense. That didn't matter. He didn't feel guilty for killing the man. He hated the fact that he had been reduced to that. He didn't feel human anymore. He needed to get it back. He needed to go somewhere that would allow him the time to feel like a human being, not an animal. Thus far, he'd been sticking to populous, touristy places because it would be easier for him to blend in...but maybe he should change his tactics.

When he reached the airport, he saw a flight leaving soon for Auckland, New Zealand. Tim didn't see anything wrong with that. He bought a ticket and in a couple of hours was on his way...to what would be the final stop in his escape: Tutuila. American Samoa.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_Present..._

Tim didn't bother trying to hold back the tears as they cascaded down his cheeks. He didn't even bother wiping them away. The Samoans had been right. He needed to cry, and now, he could. Finally. So he didn't care about Gibbs seeing him. He didn't care about the hurricane. He just cried...for himself. He closed his eyes and cried through the heat of his fever and the burning pain of his wound. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, right over his scar.

"I should have left here sooner. I knew it, but I couldn't make myself leave. It took weeks for me to feel human again. I was tired. I _am_ tired." Tim squeezed his eyes tighter. "I'm so tired, Boss." He ground the words out through his clenched teeth.

"Wait here, McGee," Gibbs said softly. Then, his hand was gone. Tim didn't answer.

The door burst open letting in a rush of wind and then closed once more. Tim breathed in and out with forced calm. He could still feel the blunted edges of his fever and the continued pain from his gunshot wound. It would be easier to fall back into delirium. As frightening as it had been, it had taken no effort at all to wander through the twisted memories.

Once again, the door burst open. There seemed to be no way of slowing it down with the rain coming down, the wind whipping through the complex. Tim didn't move. He heard the voices and he let them come to him.

There was a hand on his shoulder again. For some reason, he liked it there. He liked having someone else covering the scar that had taken so long to heal.

"Probie..."

Tim still didn't open his eyes. Having them closed so tightly made it easier to hold the tears back now that he'd released the most pressing need.

"Hey, Tony. I'm glad you're okay," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the storm.

"Are _you_ okay?"

"I've been better."

A hand on his forehead.

"You are still warm."

"Ziva."

"Yes, McGee."

The hand was withdrawn to be replaced seconds later by a cold rag. It was more welcome than anything he could think of at the moment.

"McGee..." Gibbs began, but a sudden heavy gust of wind shook the walls and caused him to stop....but the walls held and Gibbs continued. "What happened? How did you get shot?"

Tim finally opened his eyes. Words could not express how happy he was to see them all there. He knew he was still ill, but at that moment, seeing them all there, knowing that he wouldn't be alone again...that meant a lot. He didn't have to do all this himself. He looked around the room and finally smiled. It was a weak, trembling smile, tinged with pain.

"With a gun, Boss," he said, trying to joke.

"Bad time for jokes, Probie," Tony interjected, but his hand stayed on Tim's shoulder.

"It's never a bad time for jokes, Tony. Never." Tim closed his eyes once more, reliving that awful moment when he had let his guard down.

"What happened?" Gibbs asked again, unruffled.

"I was...sloppy. I had stopped looking for him, for any of them."

"Any of who?" Ziva asked.

"There's a contract out on McGee...or at least, there was," Gibbs said.

"Was?" Tim asked, ignoring, for the moment, the looks of horror on the faces of Tony and Ziva. "What do you mean, was?"

"Finish your story, first," Gibbs answered.

"Simple enough, I guess," Tim said and sighed with relief when Ziva put a wet cloth on his head. "I was in my room, changing, and...I heard something from the forest. That's not unusual. I've had plenty of wildlife drop in on me, but this was too large. Too large even for one of the stray dogs that run around here. I...investigated. I don't know which of us was more surprised by me going out back. He...was there and he had his gun out and ready."

"Then, why aren't you dead, McGee?" Tony asked.

Tim laughed shortly and then winced at a flare of pain. "Nice to know that you're so concerned, Tony."

"McGee..."

"Never go anywhere without a knife, Tony," Tim interrupted. "It's saved me a few times in the last little while. I lost it. I'll have to get a new one. It will be my fifth in the last eight months, but..."

"Your fifth?" Ziva asked, in surprise.

"Yes. I've...lost a few for various reasons. I only hit him in the arm, though. My aim was off."

"You _threw_ it?"

"You always sound so surprised that I can do things right," Tim said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "When there's no alternative, you either learn quickly or you die. I chose to learn. I'm sure the managers of the hotels I stayed in weren't happy about the holes in the walls after a while, but I would prefer to survive. I can usually hit the target now...not always in the center, but I can hit it. I hit him and that put off his aim."

"Not enough," Tony commented.

Tim winced again. "No, not enough. We both ran in opposite directions. I only made it inside. I was going to call for help...but I passed out in the bedroom. I don't really remember much until I woke up just now."

The room fell silent. Ziva changed the cloth once more, and Tony didn't remove his hand from Tim's shoulder. Gibbs sat silently in the chair near the end of the bed. Tim felt uncomfortable, moreso than he would have thought at the presence of his...were they still his colleagues? What had happened in DC during his absence? Did he still have a job? These were all questions he wanted to ask, but didn't dare voice.

The roaring wind seemed to increase about tenfold and Tim jumped in surprise, yelped in pain and after a moment let out his breath in a long exhalation.

"What's going on...out there?" he asked, trying to hold back the tears that glistened in his eyes.

"A hurricane," Tony said. "Well...not _here_. Apparently, this is just the edge of it."

"A hurricane? How long has it been?"

"About four days."

"Oh." Tim didn't know what to say. His friends were here as he'd always wanted, but he himself was so different. His _life_ was so different. "Boss...you said...was?"

"Well, obviously, there's still one person after you...but probably not more than that."

Tim looked from Gibbs to Tony to Ziva and back again. "What...what...do you...mean?"

"That flash drive you gave to Jenny, coupled with a couple of other undercover reports we had," Gibbs smiled at the question on Tim's lips. "Yes, there were others undercover in the same organization. DHS didn't see fit to inform us of that fact...and they call _us_ incompetent. Well, the information on the flash drive helped break down the intel on this organization. Most of the ring leaders have been arrested, their assets frozen."

"You got them?" Tim asked, his mind was whirling.

"Well, we're not kidding ourselves that we got all of them, but it was a huge shakeup," Tony said, grinning with satisfaction. "They're definitely hurting, even now."

"W-When did this..._happen_?" Tim asked.

"Nearly five months ago, McGee. Haven't you been keeping up with the news?" Tony looked concerned at Tim's voice. He didn't understand that Tim was absolutely floored by the idea that he might be free to live his life again...that he _could_ have been for a long time.

"It's...I...I had the time...but...I just..." He pressed his hand harder against his side. "It's...it's over?"

"Not really. None of them have gone to trial yet. That will be a few more months still."

"McGee, what is wrong?" Ziva asked.

Tim closed his eyes again and shook his head. "I could have...I could have gone home. I could have gone home. I could have gotten away from him. I didn't know." His eyes flew open and he looked at Gibbs. "I didn't know, Boss. I swear. You have to believe me; I didn't know that you got them. I didn't know how much there was on that drive. I didn't... I thought that there were...who knew how many people still chasing me." Tim looked toward the window, but he didn't really see it. "All this time...all this unending _time_ I could have been home, and I didn't know."

"McGee..."

"I want to go home. Please...please, I want to go home," he said and the tears trickled down his cheeks again.

"I hate to tell you this, McGee, but none of us are going _anywhere_ for a while. The airport is closed. There's flooding on the road...not to mention the fact that there's still a hurricane going on...and I don't think you're in a state to travel via COD."

"He's still here," Tim whimpered, letting himself feel the fear that he'd held at bay for so long. "He won't give up...and I didn't kill him. Please," he begged.

"Don't ask for what we can't give, McGee," Gibbs said. He stood. "I'm going to see if I can find Dr. Sivali in this place." The door burst open and the wind rushed in. Gibbs pulled it closed. The wind was definitely getting worse. A huge gust shook the building and the lights flickered and dimmed before finally going out completely.

Tim tensed as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. It was too dark. He couldn't see people coming in the dark. He was far too aware of his position: weak, unable to defend himself.

"Oh, please, I want to go home," he whispered. A small sob escaped from his lips. In the darkness, Tony and Ziva were mere shadows, but he felt an arm around his shoulders from either side.

"Don't worry, McGee. We've got your back," Tony said.

"We are here, McGee," Ziva added.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Dr. Sivali!" Gibbs called. "Dr. Sivali!" It was hard even to hear _himself_ over the roar of the storm. There were passageways between each of the Center's buildings, but they provided little protection against the relentless onslaught of Hettie's wrath.

"Jethro! What are you doing?"

Gibbs peered out of the hallway and into the courtyard. He couldn't tell which one of the many Samoans he had met it was.

"McGee is awake! I'm looking for Dr. Sivali!"

The man came closer and Gibbs finally recognized Iopu. "I just came from him. I can show you where he is...or where he _was_ a short time ago! Follow me! The hallway is blocked in that direction. We must venture out into the rain!" Iopu smiled, soaking wet from head to toe, but looking as though he'd just had the time of his life.

"I think you're enjoying this!" Gibbs shouted.

"There is beauty all around...if you open your eyes to see it!" He turned to lead the way, but paused. "Do not worry, Jethro! I am no thrill seeker...but I _love_ the rain!" He laughed and plunged out into the downpour. Once, Gibbs got behind and lost him in the rain. Iopu ran back, grabbed his hand in a way that no one who really knew him would have dared do and pulled him along. "He is this way! Through this door!" He pulled open the door and the two of them spilled into a relatively calm...and most importantly, _dry_ corridor.

"Where?"

"Solinuu and Afioga are in the nurses station. We have lost our communications in the storm and they are trying to get contact with the meteorological center. We cannot track the storm if we cannot get access to the outside world." Iopu led Gibbs around one more corner and he saw Dr. Sivali. He and Afioga were working by the light of a battery-operated lantern. "Fa'auta!" he announced. "'I'ila 'o ia!"

"What?"

"There he is," Iopu answered. "Solinuu!"

Dr. Sivali looked up. His face was drawn with worry. "Iopu...and you, palangi...uh, Gibbs?"

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"McGee woke up."

"He is...he is lucid?"

"Yes."

Dr. Sivali breathed a sigh of relief. "Ma'eu! I will come to check on him. Iopu, could you see if there is anything to be done with this?" He gestured futilely at the phone and computer. "Not even the generators are running right now, and if this storm continues, that will be a big problem."

"I will do my best. Have you asked Malaki? He is the miracle worker."

"Good idea. I had not thought of him. Afioga?"

"I will find him, Solinuu. Go and do your real job," she said, smiling, though she too was tense and worried.

Together, Dr. Sivali and Gibbs ran back through the storm to the building housing Tim's room. When they reached the door, Gibbs went in first, figuring that he could at least alleviate their worries that someone was trying to kill Tim off again. Dr. Sivali pulled a flashlight from his bag and approached the bed. Tony and Ziva each had an arm around Tim whose eyes were closed again.

"He's sleeping," Tony said softly. "It was the only way we could get him to relax. He's really scared, Boss."

"I must examine him and see how his treatment is progressing. Could you please let him go?" Dr. Sivali asked politely.

With obvious reluctance, Tony and Ziva released Tim. He did not awaken as they resettled him on his bed. Dr. Sivali approached the bed with his flashlight and began to take crude measurements of Tim's respiration, his heartbeat, his temperature. He took Tim's blood pressure. Then, he pulled off the blankets and removed the bandages. Because the only light in the room emanated from the flashlight in Dr. Sivali's hand, no one else could see what he saw.

"Tafefe!" he whispered.

"What is it?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"I will need one of you to go back to the nurses' station and get Afioga to bring me the debridement kit," Dr. Sivali said softly.

"Debridement?" Tony asked. "Why?"

"There is pa'u oti," he said. He shook his head in frustration at the slip into Samoan. "...dead skin. That is, necrotic tissue around the wound. It cannot be healed and must be removed before it can spread any more than it already has. We debrided once, but it was not enough, obviously."

Gibbs turned and left since he already knew the way, but Tony and Ziva leaned over and looked at what had so disturbed Dr. Sivali. The skin around Tim's wound was white, except for some red lines emanating from the wound, from which an ugly yellow discharge was oozing. As they leaned closer, they also caught a faint, but not-so-pleasant smell.

"It is infected?" Ziva asked.

"Yes. The antibiotics are helping, but once the tissue has died, it must be removed. This is a bad infection, one that we have been trying to control, but hopefully, with the resolution of some of the infection, one more debridement will start the healing process."

Tim flinched away from the doctor's probing fingers and opened his eyes. Automatically, his body shifted further away, and he suppressed a groan as he moved.

"It is the doctor, McGee," Ziva said. "He is just examining you."

Tim blinked. "Dr. Sivali...I'm sorry."

"No, do not apologize Ol–...I suppose you are now Timothy. Do not apologize, Timothy. Actually, I should apologize to _you_. I have not treated your injury as well as I could have if I had been more aware of its progression."

Tim blinked away a few tears and shook his head. "We all have too many things to regret. Let's not add to them."

Dr. Sivali smiled. "Very well. Let me explain what is going to happen. I must debride your wound to get rid of the dead tissue."

Tim winced.

"I will use anesthetic. You should not feel it...not much anyway. Then, I will put a new bandage on, dry this time to keep more infection from forming. We will be checking it regularly...hopefully. It is possible the storm will keep us from doing so...as it already has. It should be relatively quick and painless."

"I've had worse."

"Yes...I am sure you have, Timothy. You have quite the collection of scars."

Tony and Ziva both looked surprised. Tim didn't have many scars...or did he?

The door flew open...but this time, there was no one on the other side. Instead, only the wind howled through the portal. Tony ran over and struggled to close it.

"This happen often?" he asked.

"The storm? It is fairly common. This one is bad, but it is not nearly so bad as it could be." Dr. Sivali smiled. "Perhaps this one will be bad enough to destroy the Rainmaker Hotel and put it to rest."

"The Rainmaker?" Ziva asked.

"It's an old hotel that closed a while back and has never been reopened. It's an eyesore," Tim whispered.

"To say the least," Dr. Sivali agreed. He continued to talk as he examined the wound more closely. Tim winced, but he didn't make much noise.

Tony sat down once more. "So...why is it closed?"

"I don't know," Tim said and swallowed. "It was open until the early '90s...and it hasn't been opened since. I've heard people talking about it. It's..." He hissed at a sharp pain. "...an unfortunate part of Tutuila. I went and looked at the property once. It's sad."

"No one's bought it?"

Tim winced again and closed his eyes. "No. I heard that there was an offer, but then the company defaulted. They...could maybe get back up and running, but it's not looking good so far."

The door opened again...this time blowing Gibbs and Afioga in along with the wind and rain.

"The storm is getting worse. Malaki is working on the generators," Afioga said, "but so far he is not doing well. We will have to work by flashlight."

Gibbs closed the door once more, wondering as he did so why he even bothered. The wind would more than likely blow it open again...and again. The storm was definitely getting worse. Even Iopu would not enjoy this rain any longer.

"We have done so before. We can do it again," Dr. Sivali said, smiling encouragingly at Tim. "The anesthetic takes some time to go into effect. We will apply it and wait."

"How long does the debridement take?" Gibbs asked.

"Not long. It depends on how deep the dead tissue goes."

They all noticed that Dr. Sivali didn't try to make them leave this time. Tim's eyes never left them as if he was afraid they'd disappear if he looked away. After a few minutes, Dr. Sivali held out a flashlight.

"Could one of you hold this while I work? I will need Afioga's help."

"Fomai, I can do it with one hand," Afioga said smiling.

"Why, when we have so much help, Tausi?" He held out the flashlight again. Ziva, being the closest, took it and held it over the area where they were working. Dr. Sivali reached up once and adjusted the angle of the flashlight once, but other than that, he tuned the others out completely. He prodded Tim's wound gently. "Do you feel that, Timothy?"

"A little...not much."

"I think that is as good as we will get. Are you ready? You will feel some of it."

Tim smiled weakly. "A few months ago, in a hotel room that I picked because it actually had running water, I rubbed all the skin off my shoulder with sandpaper. I think I can handle this."

Ziva nearly dropped her arm in surprise. "What did you do, McGee?"

"I had to get rid of the mark on my shoulder. I didn't dare go anywhere for help," Tim said. Dr. Sivali began muttering instructions to Afioga and Tim breathed in suddenly...it was the only indication that the debridement had begun. "So...I bought some sandpaper and...and rubbed it off." He clenched his teeth for a few seconds and then laughed shortly. "I felt that."

"That is as bad as it will get, Timothy. I promise," Dr. Sivali said.

Even Ziva seemed a little squicked by the procedure as she carefully held the flashlight over the bed. Tim gripped the bed railing tightly in one hand but nothing more. Gibbs and Tony stood near the bed, but back a little to stay out of the way. Within ten minutes, the debridement was over. Dr. Sivali and Afioga quickly rebandaged the wound, now larger but less sick-looking. Once the bandage was on, Tim sighed deeply and slunk down in the bed, his eyes closing again, his breathing deep but shaky as he tried to get rid of the pain.

"The best thing for you to do now, Timothy, is sleep. Sleep away the fever. Sleep away the infection. We will try to come and check on you when we can, but I am hopeful that you have turned the corner." He stopped. "I am not sure that is the correct idiom."

Ziva laughed. "See? I am not the only one who has troubles with idioms!"

Tony and Tim both laughed...mostly as a way to get rid of the tension in the room.

"It's close enough," Gibbs said. "Do you need our help with anything?"

"At the moment? Having you here with Timothy will be a blessing. He is far away from the other patients and from the nurses' station. Knowing someone is here with him all the time will keep us from worrying so much."

"That we can do," Tony said. "Look, Probie, we have doctor's orders to bug you!"

"I think he said for me to _sleep_, Tony," Tim answered. He smiled, but his face was drawn with the lingering effects of the debridement.

"We will be at the nurses' station if there is a problem," Dr. Sivali said and then he and Afioga tried to open the door quietly...and failed...and then slipped out, slamming the door behind them.

"What did Dr. Sivali mean?" Tony asked.

Tim straightened up a little and sighed. "What are you talking about?"

"Scars."

"I haven't exactly been suntanning for the last eight months, Tony," Tim said.

"Could have fooled me," Tony said, smiling. He reached out and patted Tim's cheek. "You're brown!"

Tim pushed Tony's hand away and closed his eyes. "It was a side effect of being on the run."

"So..."

"Do you really want the list?"

"Humor me."

"Okay. I was branded in DC, had a guy come at me with a knife in London, scraped all the skin off my shoulder about a week later, had a fever outside Paris, got attacked in Rome...lost a knife there, bullet graze in Madrid, a great time with two different guys after me in Cairo...oh, and my personal favorite, the man I killed in Bangkok. That enough?"

"McGee...I...I'm sorry, man."

Tim shook his head and shrugged. "You didn't do it. You weren't there. It's over...I hope so anyway."

"Is there anything we can...get...you?" Ziva asked, painfully aware that there was little they could do at that point. They were in the middle of a hurricane.

"Do you have an extra knife?" Tim asked.

"You want a knife?"

"It would make me feel better. I always kept mine with me. I hid my gun, but I always had a knife." He licked his lips nervously. "I feel...kind of naked without it."

Gibbs reached down, pulled a knife from a concealed sheath around his ankle and handed it to Tim who accepted it with a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, Boss." He held the hilt tightly in his hand, leaned back and closed his eyes. To everyone's surprise (albeit unexpressed), Tim fell asleep, still holding the knife.

"I never thought I'd see that day that _McGee_ would sleep with a weapon in his hand."

"Nor did I," Ziva said. "He has had to live that way with people after him. Why did we never know this, Gibbs?"

"You're asking the wrong person, Ziva," Gibbs said. "McGee told me what happened and I still can't believe it."

"All this time...he was...fighting for his life and we never knew," she whispered, looking at Tim's face, much calmer in repose than it was during his period of consciousness. Part of his panic and fear were lingering results of the fever and infection, but not all. Perhaps not even most.

"If he's right, this guy won't stop even though there's no money to pay for the hit," Tony said. "It won't be over until we catch him."

"Exactly," Gibbs replied.

"What do you–?" Tony began, but a sudden roaring sound drowned out his question as the wind increased and the rain lashed the windows. Thunder rolled and lightning flashed almost constantly in an unending sequence of light and noise. The walls shook as the wind buffeted the structure. Instinctively, they all moved closer to Tim, intent on protecting their already-injured comrade.

"This sounds worse than just a storm, Gibbs!"

"It is, Ziva! We're on the edge of a hurricane!"

Then, the glass in the window broke and the wind ripped into the room.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Gibbs ran for the window, struggling to pull at the shutters that were now flapping in the wind, banging against the walls of the hospital. Tony was about to help him when a sudden movement distracted him. Tim sat bolt upright in bed, ignoring the pain that must have caused. The knife was ready in his hand; his eyes, when briefly illuminated by the flashes of lightning, were as wild as the storm. Tony moved toward him and he brandished the knife at him. The strange thing was that he didn't speak. Tim stayed silent...and even in the midst of the roaring wind and thundering skies, the silence was deafening. It was as though he were ready to...

"McGee! Are you all right?" Ziva shouted. She moved toward him, but he aimed the knife at her as well. Then, he launched himself at her, knife toward her throat. Ziva caught him as he descended and twisted him around. In his weakened state, she had no trouble disarming him, but she did try to do it gently.

"McGee! What are you doing?" Tony shouted and knelt down to help.

"Stay away! Get away!" Tim screamed at them.

Tony suddenly realized how dark it was and that they must just be shadows. The roar of the storm would distort their voices...and Tim still wasn't fully recovered from his fever. "McGee! It's Tony!"

"And Ziva! We are not trying to hurt you!"

The lights were out and in a brief moment where the lightning did _not_ split the sky, all they could feel was the tension in Tim's body. They couldn't see his face...and he didn't speak. Then, suddenly, he sagged in their arms.

"I almost...I could have..." His words were nearly lost in the roar of the storm. He brought his hands to his face as another crash of thunder shook the building.

"Don't worry, Probie," Tony shouted, "Ziva would be more likely to kill _you_ than the other way around."

"I attacked you!" Tim said over the roar.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs called. "Give me a hand here!"

Tony, for all his glib words, looked a little worried about leaving Ziva with Tim.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs shouted again, his order clear.

"Coming, Boss!" He sprang to his feet and ran to the window.

"I attacked you," Tim said again, sinking limply into Ziva's arms.

She leaned close to his ear. "I did not see that, McGee."

"But I–"

"I did not see it," she said firmly. "Shall we get you back in bed?"

Tim smiled weakly, picked the knife back up from the floor and pressed his other hand to his side. Ziva helped him stand. He sat on the edge of the bed, not moving his hand away from his wound...but he didn't lay down either. Ziva moved to the window where Tony and Gibbs both were grappling with the shutters. The task was made more difficult by the shards of broken glass still in the frame. Ziva grabbed Tony's jacket, ignoring his protest ("Hey! Use your own!") and quickly knocked out the rest of the glass. Then, she and Tony reached out, grabbing the wildly flapping shutters and pulled them back in.

"Guys?"

"Latch them!"

"With what?"

"Guys?"

"Try your jacket, Tony. It is ruined anyway."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Guys?"

Finally, with Tony still holding the rattling shutters, they heard Tim's quiet call. They looked back and Gibbs shone the flashlight toward him.

"I think this might be a problem," Tim said, holding out his hand.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The rain was still pouring down, but The Sphinx was relatively dry. He sat in his shelter and retied the bandage on his arm. He felt that, all things considered, he was doing pretty well. After the initial anger, he had calmed down enough to think logically. The first thing he needed to do was figure out how badly Timothy McGee had been injured. His aim had been off, but he was sure he had managed to hit him. If he was dead, then the job was done. The one person who could possibly identify him would be gone. He had more than twenty years in this job. He had adapted to the changes of time and had fully embraced the technological age. Even so, the need for anonymity remained paramount. No wussy federal agent with a knack for evading him would destroy a career so long in the making.

The thing that really still grated on him was the fact that his funding for this hit had disappeared. That was just one more reason to go after this Agent McGee. He was supposed to have died eight months ago when the hit was first put out, when the money would have been his for the taking. Now, he had to pay for the tracking, the time, the ammo, all by himself. He'd already been forced to turn down two other contracts after his mark had escaped. He'd even been forced to change his tactics and resort to the crude measure of sniping in Madrid.

There was one other thing he wanted...besides making Timothy McGee suffer: He wanted his laptop back. No one stole from The Sphinx. No one. No one made a fool of The Sphinx. No one got away. _...until now_, a small voice corrected.

"No, not even now," he said to himself. "A temporary reprieve, perhaps, but they all die in the end."

Sourly, he stared out at the falling rain. Timothy McGee owed him a lot...and he would pay back in full.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The blood on his hand glistened in the light, and when Gibbs shifted the beam to Tim's side, a spreading bloodstain was easily visible.

"That's not good," Tim said in the same soft voice, one barely audible above the storm. He seemed not overly concerned, nor extremely weak...but he obviously knew that both states may not last forever.

"No, I don't think it is, McGee," Gibbs said. "All right...forget the window. How do you feel about taking a little stroll?"

"Where to?" Tim asked, moving his bloody hand back to his side.

"Closer to the rest of humanity. You're the only patient in this section, but they didn't want to risk moving you. If you feel up to it, we'll get closer."

Tim didn't waste time considering. He nodded and stood. Tony let go of the shutters which promptly began to bang against the walls again. Gibbs put his jacket around Tim's shoulders. Ziva whipped Tony's out of his hands. Tony mock-glared at her and made to sling Tim's arm around his shoulders...but he was hindered.

"Probie, I'm not going to have that knife in my shoulder. Let Ziva carry it. She can watch it for you."

Tim grimaced but handed it over, albeit with some reluctance.

"I will give it back to you, McGee," she said, encouragingly.

"I trust you," he replied softly as he leaned on Tony. His words were lost to everyone but Tony who smiled and began to walk, letting Tim lean on him. Gibbs led the way with the flashlight, although it served little purpose once they abandoned the shelter of the hallways and pushed through the torrents across the courtyard. Ziva held Tony's jacket over Tim's head. In this fashion, Tim stayed relatively dry and everyone else got soaked. They made slow progress with Tim's necessarily slow pace and the howling wind and rain. Once inside, they moved a little faster through the noisy hallways.

"Running out of steam back here, Boss!" Tony called.

"Who is? You or McGee?"

Tony grinned. "Both!"

Gibbs slowed his pace down, but he didn't stop. Ziva stepped up with her teammates and took Tim's other arm. He resisted.

"Come, McGee. Your hand is not doing any more than the bandage. We are almost there."

Panting with the effort of walking, Tim couldn't really protest. He sagged and let Ziva help him more. He leaned heavily on both Tony and Ziva as they wended their way toward the nurses' station.

"Gibbs!" Noelani had just stepped out of one of the rooms. She looked at him in surprise and her eyes widened even more when she saw Tony, Tim and Ziva behind him. "You...Timothy! You are awake!" Then, she took in his pale, sweaty face. "What has happened?"

"Hi, Noelani," Tim said and smiled wanly. "It's...I just wanted to go for a walk. Where's Dr. Sivali?"

"I will get him. You should not be walking at _all_, Tagi. You look as though you would fall if..." She caught a glimpse of his side. "You are bleeding! I will get him. _You_ will put him..." She paused and looked around. "You will put him in this room. It is safe for now, on the...the sheltered side of the hospital. Go." She did not pause to see if they obeyed. Instead, she stalked off down the hall, muttering to herself in Samoan.

"She like that a lot, Probie?" Tony asked.

Tim struggled to keep his mind on the topic at hand. "Yeah, she can be when she gets annoyed. She's very nice."

"Oh, _is_ she?"

"She's engaged, Tony."

"That doesn't mean–" Tony stopped abruptly when Gibbs slapped the back of his head.

"Come on, Tony. Do as you're told."

Slowly, Tony and Ziva helped Tim into the indicated room. It was empty, but for a wonder, it was dry. Tim sank down gratefully onto the bed when the door opened again, admitting Dr. Sivali.

"Timothy! What have you done to yourself?"

Before he could answer, Ziva jumped in. "He had an accident when the window broke in the room. We decided it would be better if he was a little bit closer to everyone else since we are not doctors."

Dr. Sivali nodded, but he was still concerned as he probed Tim's wound. "You were supposed to _rest_, Timothy."

"I tried, Dr. Sivali," Tim said wearily. "I really tried."

Dr. Sivali sighed. "I am not lecturing you, Timothy. You have not done too much damage, but I will need to rebandage your wound. This time..." A smile crossed his face. "...do try to keep yourself in bed. You may have done much more with more serious injuries, but you are not healed yet and as your doctor, I am telling you to stay in bed."

"Yes, sir," Tim replied.

Dr. Sivali applied a new bandage, threatened Tim with restraints and then left.

"He didn't like palangis before," Tim said softly.

"What?"

"Dr. Sivali...he's one of those who doesn't like the palangis coming to Samoa Amelika and 'messing things up'. He obviously likes you all."

"How can you tell?" Gibbs asked.

"He called you by name, Boss. He's calling _me_ by name, although that's not such a big deal because, as his patient, he feels it is necessary. He would never refuse to treat someone, but he doesn't have to like them."

"What about your Noelani?" Tony asked.

Tim just blinked at him. The door opened once more revealing Noelani herself.

"Tagi, are you all right?" she asked.

He nodded. "I'll be fine. Thanks, Noelani. Thanks for...worrying about me."

Forgetting the others in the room, she smiled. "Even though you would not let us in, Tagi, we are still your friends. And friends worry about each other, do they not?"

"I suppose they do."

Noelani looked at Gibbs. "I am sorry for...snapping?" Gibbs nodded. "For snapping at you. It has been a long night, and Malaki _still_ has not made the generator run again."

"It's all right. It probably looked bad."

"I am just glad Tagi is all right." She looked back at the bed. "When we found you, you looked dead."

"I am not."

She smiled. "I know. Now, I only wish that Malaki would get the lights to work and that the storm would pass."

Neither happened. Tim could tell that Noelani wanted to say something else, but she wouldn't with everyone there. It was a question, and he thought he might know what it was. Still, there were appropriate moments for questions, and he was finally in a position where he might be able to answer them. Some of them anyway.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

On the other side of the island, The Sphinx laid his plans. One way or another, he would finish the job he had started eight months ago.

One way or another.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Tim slept away the rest of the night. It was not a peaceful sleep. He moaned and twisted and turned. Every so often, he would grab his shoulder where he had been branded. Once Tony thought he heard Tim say Abby's name. No one from NCIS got anymore sleep during that time. Noelani left to help Dr. Sivali with the few other patients.

"He had too much in too short a time," Ziva said suddenly.

Tony had been dozing. It was nearly seven in the morning, local time. Gibbs had slipped out to check on the generators. The sky outside was still as dark as it had been the night before. The wind seemed to be lessening, but the rain still poured down and the windows rattled. He jumped at Ziva's statement and looked at her in confusion.

"What?"

"McGee had too much to deal with. No wonder he thought only of running away. He could not handle it all at once."

"I don't blame him," Tony said. "And I'm glad that..." he trailed off awkwardly.

"What?" Ziva asked.

"Well, that he didn't just leave because he felt bad about shooting me," he admitted. "Because it wasn't his fault...and he didn't even pay attention to the fact that I was the one who blew his cover."

"You did not make the decision to be there. It was made for you," Ziva pointed out.

"No, but I said his name."

"When? Why?"

"After he shot me...I don't know why. I was going to say that it was okay and it wasn't his fault, but my mouth wasn't working right...all I could say was his name. I don't know why." Tony stopped talking again and stared at Tim's pale figure for a few minutes. Then, he looked out the window. "I can't believe he's been here for so long...and what happened before."

"Nor can I."

"What?" A soft voice asked.

Tony and Ziva turned their attention to the bed and noticed that Tim's eyes were still closed, but there were lines on his face that indicated his current state of consciousness.

"McGee?"

"No, I'm Louis Armstrong."

"Who?"

Tim's eyes cracked open and he smiled painfully. "Never mind. How's it going?"

"Oh, not bad," Tony said. "We've just been, you know, working, worrying about you, stuff like that. How about you?"

"About the same," Tim said, matching Tony's false air of nonchalance. He pushed himself into a sitting position. "Running for my life, worrying about all of you, killing people, stuff like that."

"It's been a few months."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

Awkward silence broken only by the interminable rain and wind.

"Hey..." Tim began...and stopped.

"What?"

"Am...do I...do I still have a job?"

"What?" Ziva asked.

"Did I get fired?"

"Why would you be fired, McGee?"

"I know how it must have looked, Ziva," Tim said, trying to sound unconcerned. "I shot Tony, screwed up an undercover operation and then fled the country, all within a few days. You can't tell me that some people weren't saying that I was dirty."

"Well, I could...it would be a lie, but I could," Ziva said smiling. "So far as I know you are still employed. I do not think that Gibbs would have allowed you to be fired."

Tim swallowed and looked away. "He thought the same thing as everyone else must have...that I was a coward who let my guilt and self-pity take precedence over everything and everyone else. I wouldn't be surprised if..." By the light of the lantern, a few tears could be seen making their way down Tim's cheeks. "...if he had wanted to wash his hands of me. The kind of person he thought I was...that person would have deserved it."

"But you are _not_ that person, McGee," Ziva said. "No matter how it looked."

The door burst open...but gently...well, more gently than it would have if the wind had been the only thing to blame.

"Tony, Ziva, we need your help with the generators," Gibbs said.

"Doing what?"

"Being useful, DiNozzo."

"I don't know anything about that stuff."

"I am not expert either, Gibbs," Ziva said.

"Good. Then, you can follow Malaki's directions when he tells you what to do. We need more hands."

"Gibbs..." Ziva began, looking at Tim.

"You can go," Tim said. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure, McGee?"

Tim nodded and gave a little bit of a smile. "I've been really alone for months. I think I can handle an hour or two."

"Very well."

With a lot of reluctance, Tony and Ziva left the room. Tim sat up as soon as they left and reached out for the knife on the table beside his bed. He had left it there while Tony and Ziva were around, but alone...he needed a weapon...but the table was so far away. He had to stretch to reach it, and he had opened that wound enough over the last few days. Carefully, he sidled over to the edge of the bed and began to reach again. Once it was in his reach, he snatched it up and held it tightly in his hands. His only constant companion for the last eight months...a weapon. Killing was much more personal when done with a knife rather than a gun. With a gun, you got the sound, the results...but not the feeling that you had actually done the killing...not nearly as much as with a knife anyway...maybe it was because even when you threw the thing, you could see it, follow it as it left your hand and buried itself in the flesh of your target.

Tim swallowed and held the knife more tightly. He had killed both ways. He had felt the resisting pressure of stabbing a knife into the body of his attacker, felt the blood as it poured from the wound, seen the eyes darken as the man died...and he had thrown it and seen the results. Yes, killing that way was much more personal. It was much more difficult to pretend that the death hadn't been caused by him. What disturbed him, however, was not the deaths themselves. It wasn't that. Those men had been killers and he had merely been lucky enough to come out on top. No. It was that he, Timothy McGee, felt _no_ guilt for them. He, the computer nerd, now felt more comfortable with a weapon in his hand than without one. Even on that first day, when Noelani had come to him on the beach, he had been two seconds from drawing his knife on her. What if he had? Would he have been driven from this beautiful place? Where would he have ended up? Could he have survived as long as he had here?

The door burst open yet again and Tim raised the knife, ready to let it fly.

"Tagi!" Noelani said as she stood in the doorway, her hands up in the air. She looked afraid.

"Noelani," Tim said and was instantly ashamed of his instincts. He dropped the knife to the bed. "I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve that."

"Well, I am glad you think so, but you do not need to feel bad about it," she said smiling. "I would be nervous, too, if someone had tried to kill me."

Tim looked at the blade and touched it with one finger...it was almost a caress. "I've had this, or something like it, with me the whole time I've been here. Every time you saw me, I had a knife. I needed it...to feel safe." He shook his head in disbelief. "I never thought I'd feel that way."

"You did not before?"

"No." He looked up and smiled. "I'm a computer geek, Noelani. I'm a field agent, but...I've always been better at the computer stuff, not the whole weaponry thing."

"And now?"

"Now..." He picked up the knife, tested the edge, looked at the wall opposite Noelani and let the knife fly. "...now I can throw a knife and hit what I aim at...no matter what it is."

"You never said any of this before."

"I know."

"Why not? Did you think we would reject you?"

"That was part of it...but mostly because I didn't dare. People kept finding me, trying to kill me; for weeks, they'd been trying. I didn't want them to find me here...but I stayed too long. They found me again."

"Why _did_ you stay? You went to many different places before coming here, correct?"

"Yeah."

"So, why here?" Noelani asked, walking to the wall now holding Tim's knife. "I love Tutuila, but it seems odd that you would choose this place to stop running." She grabbed the hilt and yanked it out of the wall. Then, she carried it to the bed and gave it back to him.

Tim took the knife and stared at it. "I just...I needed to feel human again."

Noelani sat down. "What do you mean?"

"I don't really..."

"Wish to talk about it?"

"Pretty much."

"Tagi, you have lived here for six months. In that time, you have said nothing of yourself, even refusing to answer the simplest questions. Yet those of us who know you have only been accepting. Do you think that knowing how hard it has been will make us change our minds?"

"It might, Noelani. It really might."

"How do they say it on TV? Try me."

Tim smiled...at his hands. "Noelani, you don't know what you're asking me to tell you."

"No. That is the point. I do not know."

"For two months, I was on the run from people who were trying to kill me. I felt like an animal, running for my life without thinking of anything other than how to get away this time...and..." Tim looked up, his eyes bleak. "...I killed people, Noelani...with my knife. One for certain, two others not sure. I was so desperate to get away that I killed people. The last one was in Bangkok. I lost my knife there because the guy was definitely dead...and I didn't care. I didn't care that I'd just killed someone. All I cared about was whether or not I could make a plane to New Zealand. That's why I stopped here." Tim saw the revulsion in her eyes even though it disappeared quickly. He figured he might as well finish. It couldn't make it any worse. "I hated how I felt. I hated that I had to run. I hated that I wasn't the computer geek anymore. I would look at myself in the mirror and see a stranger looking back at me. People were scared just at the sight of me and they didn't know what I'd done." The walls shook with a gust of wind. "I don't blame you for feeling the same way when you know."

"Tagi, you say that you were fighting for your life...and that you killed people to save your life. I believe you."

"But you don't understand it, do you."

"No, I am afraid that I do not understand how that feels." She touched his arm. "But I know that from the first day I met you, I saw sadness in your eyes. You are a good man, Tagi...a good man, living a bad life. That is not your fault; I cannot blame you for it...nor is it my _place_ to blame or even to forgive. What I know is that you were my friend before you told me and you are still my friend now...because the man you are has not changed. I just know more now." Her hand moved from his arm to his cheek. "We have called you The Crying Man...but you have never cried. Will you cry now?"

Tim covered her hand with his own and felt the tears. "I'm a killer, Noelani."

"'Olo'o Tagata Tagi, you are not a killer." She stood and put her arm around his shoulders. "You are not a killer, Tagi."

Tim leaned over and cried.

"It is all right to cry," she said softly. "It is all right to cry."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"This thing is _worthless_," Tony grumbled.

"It is not worthless," Malaki corrected. "It is broken."

"Same difference."

"That makes no sense," Luka said. "What does that mean? Same difference? How can something be the same and different?"

"Man, it's like being in a room full of Zivas," Tony muttered.

"You are outnumbered this time, Tony," Ziva said grinning.

"And yet, still, we are all speaking English."

"That is only because I do not speak Samoan," Ziva said. "If I did, I would converse with them in Samoan and let _you_ try to figure out the words."

"Ha ha."

"All right. I think that I need you to hold the tube right here while I tighten it, Tony," Malaki said.

"Yes, sir."

As he bent over to work, he asked, "How long have you known Tagi?"

"Who? Oh, McGee, uh, about four years, nearly five...wow, no, six. Crazy."

"I have known him for four years," Ziva said. "Why?"

"What kind of a man is he?"

Tony looked at Ziva and then at Luka.

"Is he a good man?" Luka asked.

"No better," Tony said firmly.

"You answered very quickly," Malaki noted.

"It doesn't take much thought."

"McGee had just finished his first undercover operation when he was forced to run for his life. You would have first met him at his lowest point," Ziva explained. "He is a very good man. We have been worried about him for a long time."

"And yet he did not try to contact you at all," Luka said as he handed Malaki a wrench.

"That is because he was worried about putting us in danger. He tends to be very protective of the people he cares about."

"And he cares about pretty much everyone," Tony added.

"Here we go. Turn it on, Luka," Malaki said.

Luka leaned over and flipped the switch. The generator coughed a few times but started going in a cloud of black smoke...causing everyone else to cough. Then, the lights came on.

"Hallelujah!" Tony said. "Let there be light."

"That was the easy part, I am afraid. Now, we have to try and hook up to the weather station and see if we can get a storm track report. If Hetti has slowed down or changed course, we may be in danger by being here. The Center is not far above sea level and if we receive a direct hit, the flooding could reach us here."

"But we have lights," Tony said.

Luka smiled. "Yes, we have lights...and hopefully running water."

"For now," Malaki cautioned. "In fact, Luka, would you go and begin filling the water tanks? Then, if the water stops working, we will still have some in storage."

"Will you pay me for this work, Malaki?" Luka asked, grinning.

"Yes, I will let you drink the water."

"Fa'afetai," Luka said, rolling his eyes as he left.

"You speak English a lot better than most people around here," Tony noted.

Malaki shrugged. "I served in your Navy years ago. English was required. Most of us learn English, but Samoan is who and what we are and so it is what we speak."

There was another roll of thunder, loud enough that it shook the walls around them. Tony looked up.

"You get a lot of these hurricanes?"

"Yes. Not very many direct hits, but we have been on the edges of many hurricanes. The last direct hit, Heta, left us without water or power for days."

"That does not sound like fun."

Malaki smiled. "It is not."

"What can we do now?"

"Well, now that the generator is finally working again, I would suggest that we ask Solinuu if he needs our help with anything. If not, the only person who needs your help will be Tagi."

"I can't get used to the name," Tony said, as they left the generator room.

"It is strange to me to call him anything else...even though _tagi_ only means 'cry' in Samoan."

Tony laughed and followed Malaki.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

The lights came on and startled the pair. Tim pulled back and looked up at the light overhead.

"Do you feel any better?" Noelani asked.

Tim smiled and wiped away the tears. "Better and worse. That's pretty typical." Then, he straightened and inhaled quickly.

"You should lay down."

"I'm okay."

Noelani just smiled and gently pushed him down onto the bed. "Not yet, but if you take the time to rest, you will be. So lay down."

Tim allowed himself to recline. "You know, before this whole mess..." he sighed. "...the worst thing that had ever happened to me was breaking my leg when I was sixteen." He looked at the window, at the rain lashing against it. "I miss my family."

Noelani smiled.

"I miss my apartment. I miss..."

"What?"

"...my car." Tim laughed and wiped away a few stray tears.

"You want to go home."

"Yeah."

"Of course. That makes sense. This is not your home."

"It's not that I haven't liked it here."

"Tell me about your family...Timothy."

Tim smiled at the change in address. "If you're going to call me by my real name, I prefer Tim."

She nodded. "Very well. Tim."

"I have a sister, younger. She's in college, drives me crazy. My parents. I have a few cousins that I don't see terribly often. My family is pretty close...but it's nothing like the..."

"Clans?" Noelani suggested.

"Clans...sure. It's nothing like what you have here. I'm a little bit envious."

"You should not be. We...are close because we live on an island. Some of us should _not_ be so close to each other. I am amazed I have not _killed_ some of my relatives."

"Okay, I can see that." Tim shifted and tried to get comfortable. It was pretty much hopeless. "I hate the way I left."

"What do you mean?"

Tim didn't get a chance to answer. The door burst open yet again, blowing in Dr. Sivali.

"Tagi, how are you feeling?"

"More like myself," Tim answered.

"That is good. Let me check to see that the infection has not spread. It will hurt a little."

"That's what they all say," Tim muttered as he rolled over to give Dr. Sivali a better view.

Dr. Sivali smiled. "You sound much better, Tagi."

"Thank you..." Tim winced as Dr. Sivali probed the wound. "...I think."

"There is no sign of further infection and your fever is continuing to go down. I think you may be over the worst of it now." Dr. Sivali replaced the bandage and rolled Tim back. "A few more days and you will be...not back to normal, but up and about."

Tim took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Great."

"You refused analgesics before. Would you like something now?"

Tim thought about it for a moment and then nodded. "Nothing very strong, though."

"That is an easy request. We are not fully stocked here in any case."

"All right. Bring it on." Tim smiled.

"In a few minutes. Noelani, could you help me, please?"

"Of course, Solinuu." Noelani looked at Tim who shrugged and smiled. "See you later...Tim."

"Bye, Noelani."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Ua matua fa'anoanoa o ia," Noelani said as they walked down the hall.

"Ua mata'u o ia, faita'i ua e leai toatasi na o ia."

"...but at least the lights are on."

Dr. Sivali looked down the hall and saw Tony, Gibbs and Ziva talking together.

"It's not the lights that worry me, Boss. It's the storm. We're kind of trapped here, until things calm down."

"That means that he is more than likely trapped wherever he is as well."

"But we don't know where that is."

"Gibbs," Dr. Sivali called.

Gibbs looked up. "Dr. Sivali. Hello."

"Tagi is doing better. I just checked and his infection is not spreading."

"That's great!" Tony said. "So...Malaki said that he was going to try to hook into the met station and see what the forecast is. I'm predicting rain."

Noelani laughed. "That is more than likely correct, Agent DiNozzo."

"Tony. I'm Tony and this is Ziva and that's...Gibbs."

"You go by your last name, Agent Gibbs? ...and the others by their first? Why?"

Ziva laughed. "That is an excellent question. It is McGee and Gibbs but Tony and Ziva. Why _is_ that?"

Tony shrugged. "Who knows? That's just the way it is."

The lights flickered and died...again.

"Oh, great!" Tony groaned. He pulled a flashlight out of his pocket. "Ziva, shall we go back to the generator again?"

"I can hardly contain my excitement," she replied.

"I'll go check on McGee," Gibbs said.

"I will be back in a few minutes with some analgesics for his pain."

Gibbs made his way down to Tim's room. He almost forgot to knock, but at the last minute, he called out, "McGee, it's Gibbs!"

There was no response, but he came in and saw Tim lying down on the bed, staring at the ceiling...the knife was still in his hand.

"The lights are out again," Tim commented.

"Yeah. Ziva and Tony are going to see what happened."

There was silence again. Gibbs was about to ask if Tim wanted him to stay or go when Tim asked a question. He didn't shift his gaze from the ceiling.

"Did you fire me, Boss?"

"What?"

"The things you said, what you thought about me...that was certainly grounds for being fired. I don't blame you for thinking that way. It's how it all looked. I'd just like to know. I could always just stay here. It's a nice place...granted, I don't have a job...but I could..."

"I don't think that about you, McGee."

Tim's voice didn't change, nor did he look away from the ceiling tiles. "You must have...at least once or twice. If you hadn't you wouldn't have jumped to that conclusion before."

"I shouldn't have said those things. They weren't true. I'm not angry at you for leaving. I understand why you did."

"But you _are _mad at me for leaving Abby...aren't you."

"Why _did _you?"

Tim gave a half smile as if that question confirmed his thought. "Because...I had to figure out what I was going to say."

"To who?"

"To you."

"What do you mean, McGee?"

Tim pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Think of the timeline, Boss. I certainly haven't forgotten it. I wish I could. I shot Tony...on Thursday. Abby got hit on Friday night...by Saturday morning, I was in London. It took two days for two people I cared about to get hurt...because of me. Both of them could have died. I knew that you'd be angry...and I had no way of explaining to you that the people who hit Abby were doing it because of the undercover operation...because of me." Tim's hand strayed to his side and he took a deep breath. "You know...it's strange. I can see that car coming down the street every time I close my eyes. I can see Abby unconscious in the street, in the ambulance, but I still can't remember what happened after I shot Tony."

"You don't remember?"

"No. I don't. I remember shooting Tony...and I _really_ wish I could forget that. I know what _must_ have happened after Tony fell to the floor. I know that I must have gone to the hospital, that I must have changed my clothes, that I must have driven back to NCIS, but I don't remember. Weird, huh?"

Gibbs thought back to that day. Eight months ago. He tried to remember how Tim had acted. He remembered being concerned when Jenny had called him to ask about Tony and had mentioned that Tim didn't seem to know anything...but Tim hadn't seemed any different, shocked, yes...but not out of it.

_Gibbs found Tim sitting in the waiting room, staring at the floor, his face pale._

"_He's still in surgery," Tim said softly._

"_What happened?"_

"_I shot him."_

"_You what?!"_

_Tim buried his head in his hands. His voice was muffled. "I shot Tony...and someone got away."_

_Gibbs grabbed Tim and forced him to look up. "What happened?"_

_Tim's eyes were haunted. "I had to shoot Tony to prove my loyalty. I couldn't. I knew it would be blowing my cover and probably screwing everything up, but I couldn't shoot him. I couldn't shoot Tony."_

"_You just said that you _did_ shoot Tony, McGee! Make sense!"_

"_I did! I did, but it was...it was an accident, Boss!" Tim's eyes filled with tears. "I shot at the other people in the room, but Larsen used Tony as a shield and I didn't see it in time. I was already pulling the trigger."_

"_McGee..." Gibbs didn't know what to say. For once, he had no clue what he could say._

_Tim on the other hand seemed to calm down now that he'd said the words. "I'm in trouble, aren't I."_

"_I don't know, McGee."_

_Tim nodded. "I need to go back to NCIS and make my...final report. They'll need to know."_

"_Are you sure?"_

"_Yeah, Boss. I'll go. Tony will be in surgery for a few more hours at least while they...repair the damage."_

"_Okay, McGee. Go."_

Now, Gibbs looked at Tim realizing, finally, the amount of strain Tim had been under at the time: coming off a long and difficult undercover op which had ended badly, shooting a close friend. No wonder Tim had repressed his memory. No wonder he had panicked when Abby had been hit. All Gibbs himself had done was tell him get his head screwed on straight and get back to work. He had offered absolutely _no_ support at a time when Tim really needed it.

"So...what _were_ you thinking when you left Abby?"

Tim shrugged, and to Gibbs' surprise, smiled. "I was thinking that I had better have a better explanation ready than...Abby got hit by a car. I was thinking that you would probably be ready to throttle me for screwing up twice. I was thinking..." Here, his smile faded. "...I was _hoping_ that I hadn't killed her. I couldn't face you, Boss. I really couldn't. You thought I was running away when I left the country...but I was running away...from what happened...from you...when I left the ER. That's when I was really running."

"You shouldn't have thought you needed to run, McGee. That was my fault."

Tim shrugged again. "I've wondered, off and on, if it would have made any difference. What if I had stayed? Would he have been in my apartment still? Would one of the other guys gunning for me have got to me first? Would I have been safe? What if I had had just one more day before being confronted by the Sphinx? Would I have thought more clearly? Instead of running to the plane, would I have thought to run to someone else for help?" A muscle was working in Tim's cheek as he tried to maintain a level of stoicism. "I thought about it...a _lot_ in the first few weeks. What if I had done this or that instead of what I did. Drove myself crazy with wondering...but then, I decided that I couldn't think about it. I'd only be distracted from...everything else."

"So, what now?"

"You're asking me?" Tim asked incredulously.

"McGee, you've been here for six months. You know this guy. Who's better qualified?"

Tim laughed in disbelief. "I don't feel qualified to do _anything _really. All this time, I've been running blind, doing whatever I could think of in the moment, anything to keep myself alive. I haven't been analyzing or investigating. I've just been running. I'm not qualified."

"Is this...Sphinx going to come after you again?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Yes. He won't stop. His job depends on anonymity...and on being successful. With me, he has neither. He needs to kill me to get on with his work."

Gibbs lowered the flashlight and swept it around the room, pausing on the hole in the wall from where Tim had thrown the knife.

"Can you do that again, McGee?"

"What?"

"That." Gibbs pointed at the hole. "Can you hit that spot?"

"Probably not exactly."

"Show me."

Tim fingered the hilt of the knife. "Why?"

"Just show me."

Tim shrugged and lifted the blade. He threw it without much thought. He hit just to the right of the hole and the blade buried itself in the wall.

"McGee, most of us don't think about things too far in advance, particularly not when people are trying to kill us. That's what training and experience is for...so we don't _have_ to think about it. You are no more unqualified to deal with this than the rest of us. ...so, what do you want to do?"

Tim whispered something inaudibly.

"What was that?"

"He won't stop, Boss...not even if I leave here. It has to end."

Gibbs could tell that wasn't what he had said, but he nodded. "Okay, then...will he move during this storm?"

"I don't know. He might...if he already has a plan, but I don't know if he does yet. Whatever he does, he'll have to sneak around. He's not Samoan. He's not so white as I am, but he's definitely not an islander. People will notice him, especially now."

"Why now?"

"The hurricane. Most of the tourists were evacuated. The ones who weren't are all at a hotel. For a palangi to be wandering around during a storm like this...people would notice and, more importantly, they'd remember."

Gibbs suppressed a smile at Tim's choice of words.

"What?"

"You called your attacker a palangi."

Tim flushed. "Well...he is."

"Never mind. He's going to come after you. That's the important thing. So, we need to figure out how to work that to our advantage."

Tim was silent for a moment and Gibbs saw, even in the dim glow of the flashlight, that Tim was _analyzing_. He was thinking, planning. It was the old Tim who, as Tony had described him, had rules and regs running through his head at lightning speed. Then, Tim suddenly smiled.

"I know how we can...I think."

"How?"

"You all have to leave."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Samoan translation:_

_Ua matua fa'anoanoa o ia – He is very sad._

_Ua mata'u o ia, faita'i ua e leai toatasi na o ia. – He is afraid but he is not alone anymore._


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Gibbs hurried down the hall as the lights flickered into life once more.

"Gibbs, who are you looking for?" Iopu asked.

"Iopu...you, actually."

"Really? Why? What can I do for you?" Iopu straightened from his position at the computer. "I was just trying to reconnect to the met station, but I am not sure we will be able to do it. The storm may have knocked out all the receivers."

"Does anyone else know that we're here besides you and the people here?"

Iopu thought for a moment. "I do not see how they could. The storm was already bad when you arrived. I was the only one at the airport. Why?"

"Because," Gibbs smiled grimly, "we all have to disappear."

"What?"

"We were _never_ here."

Iopu looked at Gibbs for a long time, his head cocked to the side. Finally, he smiled and nodded. "Yes, I see. I see very well." He looked back at his computer. "I wish we had more hands here. It is hard with only five others to do all the work. There is the generator to keep working, the patients to care for and the storm to track. Many hands make light work...and we have only few."

Gibbs stared for a moment and then grinned. "I hope you find more hands."

"The wind blows so loud sometimes that I think I am hearing voices."

Gibbs nodded and then headed for the generator.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Plans. He now had his plans. The rain continued to pour down in torrents, the wind nearly bending some of the smaller trees in half as it ripped across the island. Now that he thought about it, it made a whole lot more sense to take out his target now in the chaos. One more body might be less noticeable after a hurricane. First, he had to make sure that the erstwhile Agent McGee wasn't back at his place. If it was empty...then, there was only one place he could be if he were alive. He'd be weak. He'd be alone. Perfect.

Eight months' worth of searching would be over and he could get back to work.

...because Timothy McGee would be dead.

Decision made, he set out, striking a direction oblique to the wind and rain, running carefully, watching for debris, for trees. It would do him no good if he got seriously injured in his attempt to get rid of the gadfly that had eluded him for months. It took a good hour and a half to run through the trees. He was slowed down by coming around the protected side and getting the full brunt of the storm. Finally, however, he made it to the site of his most recent failure...which still made his blood boil. It shouldn't be so easy to elude him. It shouldn't be so easy to get away...not from the Sphinx. The Sphinx was implacable, a demon of death.

The house was empty. Police had been there, leaving obvious traces...but no body outline. The blood was still there on the floor, not enough to cause death. He knelt down beside it, checking it carefully. A smile crossed the Sphinx's lips. There was enough of a stain to indicate serious injury. Not enough for death...and his target was alone out here. Oh, he knew that there were a few of the islanders who had befriended Agent McGee...even giving him a ridiculous nickname, but they were no threat. Timothy McGee was no threat.

In moments, the Sphinx abandoned the empty house. He had one place he needed to go now. The only place to find his target. He ran easily through the wind and rain, his injured arm nothing more than an annoyance. Before this day was over, Timothy McGee would be dead and his troubles would finally be over.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ziva and Tony immediately registered vocal protests to Tim's very risky plan once Gibbs had laid it out.

"We can_not_ leave him open to attack, Gibbs!" Ziva said, her hands on her hips.

"This is ridiculous," Tony added. "Who came up with plan?"

"McGee did," Gibbs said.

"Well, it's stupid! We leave Probie alone..._all_ alone? ...and then we say, 'Here kitty, kitty...come and kill the nice little agent' and hope that somehow we're able to stop him before it can happen?"

"That's the general idea."

"Well...it's _stupid_! No way, Boss! No!"

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Yeah, we track him down and kill him!"

Ziva suddenly sighed. "And how do you propose we do that, Tony?"

"You're the tracker, Ziva."

"In a hurricane?"

"Well...not right this second."

"If he has a plan, he won't wait," Gibbs said.

"How do _you_ know?"

"Because McGee knows. He's been running from this guy for months. He knows."

Tony was blustering, but Gibbs could see the worry behind the bluster. Tim was still very weak. They had just discovered that he was still alive. It seemed...to use Tony's words, _stupid_ to allow the very thing Tim had been trying to avoid for all that time. But...there weren't many other options...and it needed to end...and there was only one way it _could_ end. They all knew it, including the Sphinx. This could only end in death.

"I don't like it, Boss," Tony said quietly. "It's too dangerous."

"I know, Tony, but I can't see any other way, and McGee is willing to try."

"Of _course_, he's willing!" Tony burst out. "Look at him! Look what he's had to deal with! All he wants is a ghost of a chance to get away. He doesn't care how likely it is!"

"You're forgetting something, Tony."

"What's that?"

"He's not alone. He _won't_ be alone. Yes, this is risky, but how much easier will it be for him to live the rest of his life waiting for someone to finally take him out?"

Tony still looked rebellious, but finally, he nodded. "Okay. What are we doing?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim lay quietly in his bed, wishing for company, but knowing that right now, he wouldn't be getting any. The generator was still sketchy, which would occupy Malaki and Luka, and Dr. Sivali was shorthanded, which would occupy Noelani. He had his knife and he was certain that he'd have a few seconds, at least, if and when the Sphinx decided to show up. Maybe he should have asked for his gun...but he hadn't used it in months, not once. His knife felt more secure.

Things had changed...so quickly. He had gone from being alone and feeling helpless to having a plan. Granted...the plan wasn't spectacular, but for most of the last eight months, he'd felt like he was treading water...occasionally slipping under. Now, he had a chance. Now, he wasn't alone. Now..._now_, he might be able to reclaim his life.

_My life,_ he thought. It was strange to think about going back to a normal life. _Can I really go back? Even if I have my job, can I really go back to being an agent and not on the run? I've been here for a long time. I've been this way for a long time. Even before I started running, I was different...because of being undercover. It was hard...can I do it all again?_

Tim wasn't sure. He thought back on his life over the past six months. It hadn't been bad here on Tutuila. It had taken a long time to feel even a modicum of humanity. Now...now, he had the chance to get the rest of it back: to be able to walk around and not look over his shoulder, to be with the people he cared about without being afraid of getting them killed, to be himself again instead of The Crying Man. It wasn't a bad nickname, but it was a representation of how he'd changed. He wanted to change back and he would do whatever it took to get back what was his.

He would get his life back.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Iopu, have you seen Gibbs or Tony?" Luka asked.

Iopu looked up. "Who?"

"Gibbs. Tony. The friends of...of Tagi."

"They are not here. You cannot have seen them. Has no one told you this?"

"I do not understand, Iopu. They were here. You saw them."

Iopu sighed heavily. Luka was practicing his English in an effort to get into college, but right now, he needed to shelve that.

"Filemu ia 'oe! 'E tautala 'oe tele!"

"'O se a ia 'o sese?" Luka asked, slipping back into Samoan himself.

"Ina ia e fa'aleaga le togafiti o latou!"

"Se a le togafiti?"

"They are trying to save Tagi and they have to be hidden. You cannot have seen them. They were not here...not ever."

"We are leaving Tagi alone?"

"Yes. Exactly."

"But that's dangerous!"

"No more dangerous than his life has been up to now from what I understand. Trust me, Luka. Let them have their plans."

"But– " Luke began.

"No, Luka. They know what they're doing. Let them do it."

Luka looked rebellious. "I don't like it, Iopu. It doesn't seem very smart."

"Perhaps it isn't, but that's not for us to decide." Iopu looked back at the computer as it beeped at him once again. He sighed.

"What is it?" Luka asked, switching back to English.

"This computer. I cannot decide if it is merely being annoying or if all the relays really are gone," Iopu answered, following Luka's shift.

"May I try?"

"Please." Iopu stood up to move out of the way when the lights flickered and died yet again. "If there was ever a time I felt like swearing," he muttered.

"But the generator was _fixed_, Iopu," Luka said in frustration. "Malaki had found what was wrong. He fixed it. It should not be going out again."

Iopu looked worriedly at Luka. "Perhaps...perhaps we should look at the generator."

"Malaki is still there."

If anything, Iopu felt more worried by that statement than by the lights going out.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. He said he would stay to double-check, but he was...uh...confident enough that he sent me here to help you...or Tagi if..." he trailed off.

"Then, I think that we definitely should go and check the generator, Luka."

Iopu grabbed a flashlight and began to walk down the hall, but realized that Luka had not followed. He turned around and shone the light in Luka's face.

"Ina 'e sau!" he ordered.

Luka flushed and hurried after him, but he plainly did not understand.

"Ai se a, Iopu?"

"Trust me, Luka. We need to go." Iopu was nervous about going, but he was more afraid of _not_ going and just sitting at the counter.

The door to the generator room was ajar and the room was silent...no sounds of Malaki cursing about the broken machinery, no clinking of metal against metal as he tried to fix it. Nothing. Now, Iopu looked back at Luka and saw that he was nervous as well.

"Iopu..."

Straightening, Iopu strode into the room, waving the flashlight around. "Malaki! Malaki! The generator has gone out _again_!" he called, making his voice sound only a little concerned. There was someone else in the room; he could tell. It made his heart begin to pound and he swallowed nervously. "Malaki?"

There was a groan in the darkness.

"Malaki!" Luka called and rushed into the room as well. He followed the sound and reached the source just as Iopu's flashlight illuminated Malaki's head...which was bloody, a wrench on the floor beside him.

"Luka, run and get Fomai Sivali. Quickly!"

Luka nodded and ran out.

Iopu switched back into Samoan as he leaned over Malaki. "Can you hear me?" he asked.

"He's still in here," Malaki whispered in a strained voice...but also in Samoan.

"Yes, I know. What did he do?"

"Turned off the generator. He took me by surprise," Malaki said, his words slurred.

"Only off?"

"I think so."

"Good. Luka has gone for help. I hope he leaves." As he spoke, Iopu heard the sound of someone moving quickly through the darkness. "Fomai?" he called, but the footsteps increased and there was a moment when a silhouette appeared in the doorway before disappearing down the hall.

Iopu sighed with relief and pulled a rag out of his pocket to press on Malaki's wound. It didn't look too serious, but it was better to be careful.

"Are you all right?"

"I'll live," Malaki replied.

When Dr. Sivali and Luka arrived moments later, Iopu looked out the door, knowing, even without seeing, who had been in the room...and in his heart he prayed that Tim would be all right.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Close. Too close. He could have killed them, but the Samoans would be more likely to pursue someone who killed one of their own instead of a stranger. They hadn't seen him. They didn't need to die. He had heard the one who had come in talking...but he hadn't ever learned Samoan. He disregarded it. They didn't know. He'd be fine. Shedding needless blood was the quickest way to get caught.

However, now that he was here, there were too many rooms to look through, even with so few able-bodied on staff at the moment. Too much risk. He needed someone to tell him where his target lay. That person would, of course, have to die, but a body count of two would be tolerable. Now, he needed to find someone.

Down the hall, a door opened. He smiled.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Are you in place?" Gibbs asked over the radio.

Tony looked around at the rain. He shivered. "Yeah, Boss. Why am _I_ the one outside? May I remind you who has the weak lungs around here?"

From her position in the shadows of the hallway, Ziva grinned and whispered, "For someone with weak lungs, you talk a lot, DiNozzo."

"Shut up, both of you," Gibbs barked. "Can't you just answer a question without commentary?"

"Nope," Tony said and wiped the rain out of his eyes. "This really stinks."

Gibbs rolled his eyes and headed back across the hall. He had a feeling this was the beginning. The plan had been too quickly cobbled together, but he hoped it was enough. Give the Sphinx one glimpse of them and he'd likely disappear just on principle. None of them, not even Ziva, could pass as native Samoans. Hiding in the shadows...or in Tony's case, under the eaves outside Tim's room, was the only option.

Then, as he changed position yet again, he heard a sound.

Someone was crying...in fear.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Translation from Samoan: _

"_Shush! You are talking too much!"_

"_What is wrong?"_

"_You may spoil their plan!"_

"_What plan?"_

_Ina 'e sau ~ Come!_

_Ai se a? ~ Why?_


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"Don't even _pretend_ that you don't know any English. I've been here for long enough to see you talking to Timothy McGee," the Sphinx hissed in Noelani's ear as he dragged her down the hall. "I know you can understand me."

Noelani was terrified, and although she knew English very well, all the words seemed to have leaked out of her mind and she was incapable of answering in anything but Samoan.

"Fesoasoani!" she begged, tears running down her cheeks. She could feel the gun in her side and the Sphinx's arm around her neck was very tight. "Fesoasoani!"

The arm tightened even further. "Shut up! If you don't help me, I'll just kill you and find someone else. Where is Timothy McGee?"

Noelani kept crying, remembering that she wasn't supposed to know who Tim was...but knowing that she wouldn't be able to keep up the pretense if this man threatened her again.

"You call him The Crying Man. Where is he? I know he's here," the Sphinx said. "This is your last chance. Where is he?"

Finally, Noelani pointed down the hall.

"Which room?"

"E sefulu ma le ono," she wept.

"Which...room?"

"E sefulu ma le ono!" Noelani repeated, wracking her brain, trying to remember the number in English. She felt his arm tighten again and suddenly remembered. "Sixteen! Sixteen!"

"I knew you spoke English. Well, come along, darling. We've got an appointment."

The Sphinx dragged Noelani along with him, not relaxing his grip at all, and something about him made Noelani sure that he was going to kill her. The closer they got to Tim's room, the less time she had to live. ...now, she thought she might just understand how Tim felt running for his life for all those months. She could feel the desperation, the need to get away from the man holding her life in his hands. Even through her terror, Noelani wondered if this is what Tim had meant.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Did you hear that, Ziva?"

"Yes. I heard. Should we move now?"

Gibbs whispered from the room next door to Tim's. "Can you see them?"

"Yes," Ziva replied. "He has a gun and his arm is around her neck."

"You have a clear shot?"

"No."

"Can you get into a better position?"

"Not at the moment. Tony?"

Tony sniffed noisily. "There's no movement from inside Tim's room. He's not to the door yet, but I have a clear shot through the window."

"Be ready. I don't want Noelani getting killed because of any of us jumping the gun."

"Got it, Boss."

"Yes, Gibbs."

The confrontation had come much too quickly. If they hadn't taken precautions, Tim would have been attacked much, much too soon. They would have been distracted by the generator and by their own worries. It was likely that Tim would have been dead even with their presence. They would have been there in time to take his body back to DC. The realization of that likelihood made Gibbs' blood run cold as he listened to Noelani soft weeping. They had told her of the plan, but never had any of them considered that she might become involved.

There was no choice but to wait and see what they could do. This was _not_ a good plan...but it was the only one they had and they would have to see it through.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim heard Noelani and his heart ached for the fear he was sure she was feeling. One glance out the window gave him a view of Tony standing just out of sight of the door. Still, Tim was the one inside. He was the one who would draw the Sphinx's attention.

_This is over. This is going to be over now._ Tim sat up, winced and made sure that he didn't look at Tony because he knew that Tony would be gesturing frantically for him to stay where he was. He would not be passive any longer. That's how he had lived the last eight months: passively, being hounded by the hunters. He was through being the prey. Carefully, he pushed back the covers as the sound of Noelani's weeping drew nearer.

In his mind, he saw every moment, every attack, every scene in which he had been forced to run, forced to flee...forced to kill or be killed. He was through with having no choice. He was through with having the choice made for him...and he would _not_ allow someone to die for him. He would not allow another innocent to get in the way. There would not be another Tony to be injured inadvertently at his hands. There would not be another Abby, injured because of Tim's own mistakes. Noelani would _not_ join those ranks. She had befriended him before every other person on Tutuila. She had not been driven away by his obvious trauma, by his secrets...and he would not let her be punished for her kindness. That was not an option.

Tim got out of bed, his knife in hand and crept to the door.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony gave up trying to tell Tim to get back in bed. Instead, he got on the radio, forgetting about how wet he was, about the weather. All he cared about was trying to stop his friend from being an idiot. "Boss...McGee is..."

"What, DiNozzo?"

"He's...oh, crap!" Tony's report abruptly cut off as the lights took that terrible moment to come back on. Gibbs decided to take that as a cue to move...even more so when Noelani's quiet tears became screams and the sound of breaking glass, but no gunfire, could be heard over the radios.

He and Ziva moved in from their respective places. Gibbs came out of the room and saw Ziva already halfway down the hall. They both had their guns out. The door was banging in the wind as they burst into the room. What they saw stopped them in their tracks.

The sound of the howling wind, the rain pouring in from the open window was only broken by the sound of Noelani's tears.

Then, there was a soft whisper, barely audible over the wind and rain and sobs.

"I had to, Boss," Tim whispered from his position on the floor in a voice full of exhaustion. "I had to."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Translation from Samoan:_

_Fesoasoani ~ Help!_

_E sefulu ma le ono ~ Sixteen_


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

For a long time, the only thing moving in the room was the blood oozing around the knife protruding from the back of the Sphinx as he lay dead on the floor. Noelani was frozen in a kind of half crouch where Tim had thrown her and Tim himself was on his hands and knees, staring at the man he'd just killed. Tony had paused halfway into the room through the window he'd broken when the altercation had begun. Gibbs and Ziva were both pointing their guns, uselessly as it turned out, at the corpse. Everyone was looking at the knife, at the evidence of what Tim had just done. It had been rammed in to the hilt, and they all knew it wasn't a short knife. In fact, Gibbs rather thought that if they were to turn over the body, they'd see the point of the knife sticking out of the Sphinx's neck.

Tony couldn't believe how quickly Tim had managed to move. One moment, Tim had been leaning forward, looking weak and tired, the next...a whirlwind of energy. There had been an intensity to his movements that had always been lacking in him before his disappearance. Then, too, he had lost a lot of weight...too much, if it came right down to it. Tony figured that what he had seen was more or less how Tim had lived. Exhaustion and weakness followed by a quick burst of energy to get him away from whoever had been after him.

"He's dead?" Tony asked, finally finding his voice.

Tim nodded without checking the body.

"You sure?"

Gibbs answered this time. "Yeah, Tony. He's dead."

"How did you do that, McGee?" Ziva asked.

"I've done it before," Tim whispered. "Only from the front instead of from behind. It's easier when they don't see it coming." He swallowed and looked at Noelani. Their eyes met briefly and she nodded.

"'Ou te lagona, Tagi," she said softly.

Tim closed his eyes tightly. "Fa'afetai, Noelani."

"I am the one who should say thank you, Tagi. You saved my life."

Tim didn't answer.

"McGee, are you all right?" Tony asked.

Tim nodded, his eyes still closed. "I'm just tired. I'm so tired." His head dropped and his elbows bent. Gradually, over the storm, they heard whispered sobs as Tim started to cry. "I'm so...so tired." They could see him shaking and his head touched the floor, his hands curling into fists. Still, his sobs never became loud, but neither did they cease.

Gibbs was the first to break the tableau. He returned his gun to his holster and knelt beside Tim, not trying to move him, just putting a hand on his back as Tim continued to cry.

"It's all right, Tim," he said. "It's over now."

Tim didn't reply. He continued to cry and his body slumped to the floor, one hand moving to the bandage on his side.

"Tony, give me a hand," Gibbs said. When Tony still didn't move, he raised his voice. "Tony!"

"Right...right, Boss." Tony took a deep breath and finally climbed the rest of the way into the room. He slipped and slid over to Tim and Gibbs and helped get Tim back to his bed. If they had expected to carry him, they would have been surprised. As soon as they began lifting, Tim stood up, mostly on his own. The only indication that he wasn't all right was the shaking that didn't stop and the tears that continued to course down his cheeks.

Once settled, Gibbs gently lifted Tim's hand away from the bandage to see if he was bleeding again. By some miracle, he wasn't, but Gibbs refrained from commenting. Instead, he pulled the covers up over Tim as he slowly turned onto his uninjured side and curled into a slight fetal position. Tony patted his shoulder, a bit awkwardly, and looked at everyone else with a lost expression. Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"Go to sleep, McGee," he said softly. "You're safe now. Just go to sleep."

Gradually, Tim's shudders began to ease and Tony watched his eyes close. Still, no one spoke. No one really even moved, beyond Noelani sinking all the way to the floor and resting on her knees. The Sphinx lay dead, the blood now pooling on the floor beneath his body. When Tim's breathing had changed from the shaking sobs to the deep even breathing of sleep, Gibbs turned around and looked at Noelani.

"What happened?" he asked.

Noelani was staring at the body, hugging herself tightly. Gibbs walked over and crouched in front of her.

"Noelani."

She finally tore her eyes away from the Sphinx and looked at Gibbs. "I do not...know, Gibbs. It was..." She paused as if searching for the words. "It was so fast. I did not see. I felt the gun and then, I was being torn away from that man and...I did not see!"

Ziva knelt beside her and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "It is all right."

"Tagi killed him. He saved me. That is all I know, but I did not see," she said, her voice slightly calmer. "I was so afraid." She laughed a little. "I could not even remember how to speak English."

"Hey, people who _only_ speak English sometimes forget how to speak English in that kind of a situation," Tony said, leaving the bed and joining the group. "It _was_ really fast, Boss. It was like watching a movie on fast forward. I really didn't think McGee could move that fast."

"What did you see?"

Tony shrugged. "McGee was standing on the opposite side of the room from the bed, just out of sight. The door opened and the lights came on and I was in full view. The Sphinx saw me and began to shift. I could see he was getting ready to shoot me. I'm so obviously _not_ a Samoan. I didn't have a good shot because of the way he was holding Noelani. I jumped out of the way, and all I saw was...it was like Tim _flew_ at them. Grabbed Noelani in one hand and pulled her away. He must have stabbed with the other, but I didn't see it, either. I think the only one who did is McGee."

"Gibbs, what will we do with the body? We cannot investigate in the middle of this hurricane...but we cannot just leave the body here," Ziva said. "It will start to smell."

"Well...we all know what happened, but let's try and keep everything on the level. As soon as the storm passes, we'll contact the local LEOs and..."

"LEOs?" Noelani asked. "What is a LEO?"

"Law enforcement officer," Tony answered.

"Oh. The police. My older brother, Mataio Siimalevai, was investigating the attack on Tagi. He and Lui. He will probably come as soon as it is safe. He worries about me." Noelani smiled at the irony.

"Okay. We'll tell him about all this when we get a chance. Since this was an attack involving an NCIS agent, we'll have jurisdiction, but we don't have anything here to investigate ourselves."

"We do not have much. There is not a lot of violent crime here," Noelani said.

"Once the storm is over, we can contact the Nimitz and get Stan over here." Then, Gibbs sighed and put a hand on Noelani's shoulder. "I'm sorry for all this, Noelani."

She smiled. "It is not your fault, Gibbs. I am always getting in the way. My father says I do not have enough to do."

"Is there a morgue in this place?"

"Yes, there is. It is...in the second building. That way." Noelani pointed, her hand still shaking a little. She noticed and smiled. "Is this kind of thing normal for you?"

"Not exactly. Usually, we're a bit better prepared."

"I see." Noelani paused awkwardly. "I would like to..." She flushed a little in embarrassment. "I will come back...later, but now, I must..."

"I understand," Gibbs said. "Ziva, would you walk with her...and find something we can store the body in?"

Ziva nodded and finally put her gun away. Then, she followed Noelani out of the room.

"You had to _break_ the window, didn't you, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, wryly as they checked the body. "Couldn't just open it?"

"I was in a hurry, Boss," Tony retorted.

"Yeah." Gibbs took a deep breath and looked over at Tim sleeping. "Not our finest hour, Tony."

"Nope," Tony agreed fervently. "It could have been worse, though. The only person who died was the one who deserved it. I'll take that."

"Me, too."

Ziva was back a few minutes later with, not only a body bag and stretcher, but also a cheap camera. It wasn't a lot, but they could at least assuage their consciences as they moved the body. They could all hear Ducky berating them for doing so before he could get to it. Moving in typically-efficient fasion, the room was cleaned up quickly. Tim didn't even stir in all the commotion. Dr. Sivali came by once to check on him, but Tim still didn't awaken. He left the NCIS team in the room and continued on his rounds. Noelani, understandably, didn't come by all that day nor into the night. Luka came by once and told them about Malaki and that Noelani was sitting with him...and still Tim slept on.

---

_There was a presence hovering in the air. Full of menace, it hung just out of sight, no matter how Tim whirled around to find it. He ran to get away...but it was always with him, always there._

"_I'm here," it whispered._

_Tim shouted in terror and began to run again, down dark, slimy tunnels, coming out into the open in bright shining cities, unable to stop. He had to keep running._

"_You can't get away."_

_Tim whirled around again, but it was still out of sight. He took off in a different direction, panting with the effort of running so far. Then...then, he looked down and he had a knife in his hand. He held it tightly and looked to the right and left. It was still there...right...behind...him._

_Tim turned, bringing the knife down in a smooth motion, confident of success...only to find that he was killing himself. He was the hovering menace. He screamed in absolute horror, flinging the knife away from him and watching as the blood poured out of the wound on his own neck._

"NO!"

"Wake up, Tim! Wake up!"

Tim's eyes flew open and he was still screaming, flailing around as he tried to get away from the sight he could still see floating in front of his eyelids.

"No! It's me! It's me!" he shouted.

Arms were around him, stopping his motions. Words were whispered in his ear.

"It was only a dream. It's all right. Shh, calm down. You're all right."

Again, Tim cried. It was as if he was getting all the tears he hadn't shed in the last eight months out in one go.

"You are fine. It is all right."

He felt the arms around him, although he didn't know whose they were. All that mattered was that they were there. Tim knew he wasn't alone anymore. He didn't have to face this alone. That was all that mattered.

"I killed myself," he gasped out. "It was me. It was me."

"No, Tim. That was only a dream. Open your eyes."

Tim was surprised to find that his eyes were still closed. He had been sure that he had opened them. He made the attempt once more and, instead of the horror of his own body lying dead on the ground, he saw Gibbs and Tony...and felt Ziva's arms around him. He became aware of his own trembling and of the tears that ran down his checks...and of the comfort of being held.

"Only a dream," he whispered.

"Yes. Only a dream," Ziva confirmed.

Tim let out a whoosh of air and slumped down, wiping his face and finding just as much sweat there as tears.

"It was..." He couldn't even try to explain it. Everyone was staring at him and that made him uncomfortable. He looked around and noticed something that was vastly different from the last time he'd been awake.

"It's lighter, isn't it?" he asked, his voice still choked with the remnants of his weeping.

"Yeah," Tony answered. "Iopu came in a while ago. They finally got their connection to the met station. Hettie is moving on. Turns out she had stalled just south of here, between us and Niue. Now, she's moving on toward someplace else."

"How much longer?"

Tony shrugged. "Depends. She apparently never got very strong...although I would disagree. I think we've seen the worst of it though."

"Good. That's good," Tim said and took another deep breath. He closed his eyes again and then felt Ziva's arms withdraw...and heard she and Tony leave the room. Gibbs did not, and Tim thought he knew what was coming.

"What happened, McGee?"

He was right. "I killed him, Boss."

"Yes, I know that. How?"

Tim smiled wanly and looked up again. "I stabbed him."

"More specifically."

"You want me to be specific?" Tim asked. "I took my knife and I rammed it into his back as far as I could. Then, I twisted it just to be sure that he couldn't survive it...and I felt him die." He could tell the tears were coming again. "...and I don't regret it."

Gibbs seemed unmoved by the outburst. "You told me that you had to. Why? Ziva and I were out in the hall. Tony was right outside the window. Any one of us could have got him."

"He was going to kill Noelani. He was ready to kill Tony. I couldn't let that happen."

"According to Tony, you were moving _before_ he got in there, before he saw Tony. You had already made up your mind. Why?"

Tim sat up and let out a deep sigh. "Because I had to, Boss."

"Why?"

"Because...I..."

"What?"

"I couldn't let him win. Even when I was just here, for all this time, he's been winning. He took my life away. He's been _everywhere_, Boss. He has or someone else just like him. I've let him change me. I've let him turn me into...into a killer. If I was going to do any more killing, it was going to be on _my_ terms, not on _his_. For once, he would not be calling the shots. For once...I could feel like _I_ was the one in control." The tears started again, and Tim brushed them away in annoyance. "For once, I wouldn't let someone else get hurt. For once...for once, I could do something right." Tim looked out the window, toward the sky that was slightly less dark than it had been. "I brought all this on myself, Boss. I started it. I had to be the one to end it. It had to be me...not you or Ziva or Tony." Tim looked back and met Gibbs' gaze fully. "I wanted to finally have some control over my own life."

Gibbs didn't reply, but he held Tim's gaze. There was something there that had been absent before, and Gibbs didn't think he liked it.

"Was that wrong?" Tim asked finally.

"To want this to be over? To want your life back? No, McGee."

"Was it wrong for me to kill him." The way Tim said it wasn't a question.

There was a long pause, a period of relative silence. Tim never looked away, and Gibbs didn't give up a single thought.

"No. No, McGee. It wasn't wrong."

Gibbs said the words, but he wasn't sure whether or not he was lying...but he didn't know how to answer that question because it seemed wrong for _Tim_ to have killed the Sphinx, not because the act was wrong but because it was wrong that it was Tim who had done it. If he had done it or Ziva or Tony...he wouldn't have batted an eye. Somehow, because it was Tim, there was ambiguity...because Tim wasn't the kind of person who would do it.

_How do you explain that to a man who isn't sure himself whether or not he did the right thing?_

You didn't. You said what the answer should be and hoped that everyone could move on.

_And we will, if I have to drag every single one of us along._

_---_

_Translation from Samoan:_

'_Ou te lagona ~ I understand_


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Tim slept a lot over the next couple of days. He would wake up, eat, talk just a little and then go back to sleep...at least, that was how it seemed. There was no chance to have any real conversations. The phones were still out for the first day; so there was no chance of calling home, calling the Nimitz. They just had to wait. Gradually, the downpour turned to a hard rain which lessened to a drizzle...then, a sprinkle...and finally, just before sunset on the second day, a glimmer of sunlight made its way through the clouds. Although the cell towers were out, Gibbs was finally able to contact the Nimitz. He called Stan and asked for him to drop by.

"We need your equipment out here, Stan. We've got a body for you to process."

"_A body? I hope it's not your man."_

"No. The guy who was trying to kill him."

"_We're actually already on our way. Since we're so close to American Samoa anyway, we're to check on them and make sure any emergencies are handled."_

"The airport's out of commission for at least a week."

"_Are you saying you're going to want another ride?"_

"It's a possibility."

"_Just say the word, Gibbs."_

"Thanks, we'll be waiting."

"_Gotcha, Boss."_

Hettie had begun breaking up as she turned south and east, lessening to a mere heavy storm. Even as a hurricane, she hadn't been severe. Bad enough but not severe. Now...now, she was gone. The storm was over and rebuilding could begin.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two days later..._

"Where's McGee?" Tony asked, as he stood, stretching and arching his back.

The sun was back out and while they waited for the return of the Nimitz, Tony, Ziva and Gibbs had volunteered to help with the cleanup. Things hadn't been as bad as everyone had feared, but there was a lot of debris to clear away. Houses nearest the ocean were in varying states of disrepair. After helping with the hospital, the three foreigners had decided to join Iopu as he drove around on the road, first clearing it off as they went along and then helping others clean up their property. Tim had come along with them but had been forbidden from doing any work on Dr. Sivali's orders. He still wasn't saying much, but he seemed more relaxed than he had been.

"There, he is," Ziva said, pointing toward the beach. There was a lot of debris washing up on shore, but Tim was sitting, staring out at the ocean, the waves just a few yards below his feet. He had shed his shirt, even though the breeze was fairly cool.

"I'm going to take a break, Boss," Tony said, gesturing toward the motionless figure.

Gibbs nodded. They'd been taking it in turns, trying to get Tim to talk to them, but so far, no luck. The Nimitz was due to arrive soon and they were making arrangements to get Tim back to the States. ...but Tim hadn't been involved in any of those discussions. As desperate as he had been to leave a few days ago, now, he wasn't showing any eagerness at all and it was worrying to everyone.

Tony crossed the empty road and followed Tim's tracks in the sand. Quietly, he settled beside Tim.

"I used to sit on the beach for hours," Tim said after a few moments of silence.

"When?"

"When I first got here. I wasn't sure how long I'd be able to stay. I was trying to get rid of two months worth of...whatever...by letting the sun bake it out of me. They were afraid of me, here." Tim laughed a little. "It's funny. I'm not used to be scary or intimidating." He took a deep breath and Tony noticed that Tim still had an unhealthy look. Perhaps it was the scars...perhaps the way he seemed to have shed every ounce of fat he'd ever had. It made him look half-finished, half-empty. "But after a while, I just became a part of the place, not really accepted, but not shunned either. I knew the day would come that I'd have to move on, but I was so desperate to rest that I stayed and stayed...I stayed as long as I could. I probably stayed too long."

"No, McGee. If you'd left, we might not have found you."

"I know."

"You saying that you wish we hadn't?"

"No...yes...I don't know." Tim sighed heavily. "It's...it's just that it's been so long. I know that eight months isn't really a long time, but...it feels like eight years, Tony."

"That's understandable, Probie. That's hardly a reason for wishing we hadn't found out where you were."

There was a length of seaweed beside Tim's feet. He leaned over and picked it up, tying the smelly strand into knocks.

"I'm different, Tony. I'm _really_ different. Even discounting the undercover op...and what a mess that was...I'm..._radically_ different from how I was. If you had told me before all this happened that I'd be willing..._wanting_ to kill a man, I wouldn't have believed you. I wouldn't have believed that I could possibly want to stab a man in the back..." Tim smiled. "...literally."

"You've wanted to kill people before, McGee. I distinctly remember when..."

"It's not the same, Tony. Do you know why?"

"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me."

"Because I didn't do it before. I was angry enough to kill, but I didn't ever do it. This time...and a few other times besides, I did it. I wanted to and I did." The seaweed broke as Tim pulled the knots too tightly. He tossed it away. "I've changed."

"You say that like it's a bad thing, McGee."

Tim smiled a little. "No, I know that change isn't bad in and of itself. Don't you see?" He looked at Tony earnestly. "For the last eight months, I haven't been an NCIS agent. I haven't been a computer geek. I've barely been human. I pushed away every single thing that might get me killed. That included trusting law enforcement, calling for help, having friends...my feelings about murder. In Madrid, I nearly killed a guy I had paid to make me a passport because he was asking too many questions. I put my gun to his throat and threatened to kill him if he didn't shut up. I don't know if I actually would have done it, but...I threatened."

"What are you saying, McGee? I'm not getting it. You're going to have to be more explicit. Remember? I'm the jock."

Tim laughed a little and stared back at the ocean. "I want to go back, Tony. I want to go home. I want to see my family. I want to...go back to NCIS. I just don't know if I can. I don't know if I can slip back into my life because it seems like it belongs to a stranger. Someone I'm not anymore."

"You know, there's a real easy solution to your problem," Tony said lightly.

"What's that?"

"You come back with us, try it out...and if it doesn't work out, you can always return to American Samoa and...do whatever it is you do on this island."

"That sounds eminently logical, Tony," Tim said, but his expression was somber. "But there's just one problem."

"What's that, Probie?"

"I'm afraid to go back."

"Hey, Gibbs!"

The shout startled them both and they looked back toward the road in time to see a truck pull over and a man jump out.

"I should have known you wouldn't be at the hospital when I got here!"

"Who's that?" Tim asked.

"Stan Burley."

"Oh." Tim stood up, brushed the sand off his clothes, put his shirt back on and walked back toward the workers.

Gibbs and Ziva both straightened and walked toward Stan. Neither Tim nor Tony missed the speculative look Ziva gave Stan.

"They going out or something?" Tim asked.

"They met on the Nimitz...for about two minutes. I doubt it."

"Looks like they could be," Tim said, amused.

"We went straight to the hospital when we put in, and of course, you're all out gallavanting around the island," Stan said, grinning broadly. He looked back as Tim and Tony neared the group. "You're the elusive Agent McGee?" he asked.

"That would be me," Tim said, plastering a smile on his face.

"Nice to meet you. Stan Burley."

"Likewise." Tim hesitated. "You're here to investigate?"

"Well, process is more like it."

"I can show you the body," Tim said.

"You don't–" Tony began.

"No, it should be me, Tony," Tim said firmly. "After all, I'm the one who killed him."

There was an awkward pause.

"You sure, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah, Boss. I can't do anything out here anyway."

"All right. Go ahead. We'll be back in a few hours."

"Sure thing, Boss," Stan said. "We'll probably have everything done by the time you deign to appear." He grinned...and his smile lingered on Ziva for just a moment. She returned the smile and her lips quirked just a little. Then, Stan turned back to Tim. "Shall we, Agent McGee?"

"Right." Tim followed him to the car. After the two of them were gone, Gibbs looked at Tony.

"Well?"

"I think I see a blossoming romance," Tony commented.

Gibbs slapped him upside the head. "About McGee, Tony!"

Ziva just rolled her eyes.

"Right. He said he wants to go back, Boss, but that he's scared."

"Of what?"

"Don't know. You're new boyfriend showed up just in time to–"

Gibbs slapped him again.

"I think he's afraid that he's changed too much to go back, Boss. He feels like a different person and he's not sure he'll fit in back in DC."

"What did you say?"

"I told him he could just try it out, but I think he's afraid to find out whether or not he can go back."

"Would he stay here?" Ziva asked. "There is not much for him to do."

"I don't know," Tony said. "I don't think _he_ knows what he'd do instead."

"Well, he is coming back with us...if I must drag him."

"I'll help," Tony said.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"How long have you been here?" Stan asked as they drove back to the hospital.

"Six months, give or take," Tim answered, staring out the window at the ocean.

"You excited to go home?"

"Yeah, sure."

Stan looked over at Tim. He'd never met him before, but somehow he knew that this was a different person from the man who'd disappeared earlier that year. When he'd talked with Gibbs or Abby or Ducky, he'd got the sense that Tim was kind of a softie. There was nothing soft about the man sitting beside him.

"So...why are you here?"

"I was on the run. The man I killed was trying to kill me. I got away from him and he couldn't let that stand."

"Oh. Agent McGee?"

"Yeah?"

"What did you do here for the last six months?"

"Not much, really. I sat around a lot, fixed up the house I was renting. I...wrote letters."

"Letters? To whom?"

"My family, friends...the team. I never sent them, but I really wanted to." He sighed. "I still have them all."

"You want to talk to your family? You can use the sat phone." When Tim didn't reply, he continued, "You must miss them."

"They think I'm dead."

"All the more reason to call," Stan said reasonably. "Tell you what: when we get the investigation over with, I'll get you hooked up to call home, tell your family you're still alive."

Tim didn't respond, but Stan simply took that as agreement and mentally cataloged it into his schedule.

They arrived at the hospital a couple of minutes later and Tim led Stan to the morgue.

"We couldn't leave him out on the floor for days. He would have decomposed. The cause of death is fairly obvious," Tim said.

Stan got out his kit as Tim opened the body bag. He was surprised to see the knife still sticking out of the body with a sandwich bag over top of it.

"You did this?"

"Yes."

Stan nodded, but he was rather surprised because Tim just didn't strike him as the kind of person who would use a knife to kill. He processed the body in silence, all the while aware of Tim's presence behind him.

"You don't have wait, you know."

"Yes, I do."

Stan nodded, thinking, _Okay, this is awkward._

"He had Noelani. He was going to kill her regardless of what happened. He couldn't leave behind any witnesses. That's why he was so determined to come after me. I was a witness. But Gibbs was right. That wasn't why I killed him. I killed him because I wanted to end it. Even if he had just come in without her, even if he hadn't seen Tony outside the window...I still would have killed him, in the same way. ...and I wouldn't have felt any more guilt than I do right now."

"How much guilt is that?" Stan asked, turning around.

"None," Tim said. "He was a contract killer, a murderer for hire. He felt no remorse about killing people. I felt no remorse about returning the favor."

"I don't think I would have either, actually," Stan said, smiling grimly. "Sounds like he didn't have much to recommend him."

"No. He didn't." Tim took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm glad he's dead."

_Sounds to me like you're trying to convince yourself,_ Stan said silently. "Well, I'm done here. You ready to call home?"

Now, for the first time, Tim looked uneasy. "I don't know if...well, I mean..."

"Come on, Agent McGee," Stan said, putting a companionable arm around his shoulders. "They're going to be so happy to hear from you that you'd probably be able to weasel anything out of them you want."

"It's not that I don't want to talk to them, but...I just...I don't know...it's..." That look of discomfort actually was a nicer expression than the stoicism Tim had been using before.

Stan nodded. "I get it, Agent McGee, but it won't get any easier the longer you wait...and do you really want to leave them thinking you're dead? Or worse, living in that limbo of _not_ knowing at all?"

"No, you're right. Let's go."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat staring at the phone. He could have made a call the day before, but he'd found a reason to put it off. He could have used a phone in the hospital. It would have been expensive, and probably not especially high-quality, but he could have done it. Now, somehow, Stan had talked him into doing it...with a phone that worked well and wouldn't cut out...and was still expensive. He hadn't talked to his family for months, had let them think he was dead, had, in effect, abandoned them. How would they feel when they found out he was still alive?

"Dial the number, Agent McGee," Stan urged and then gave him his privacy.

With his hands shaking, Tim dialed the number he'd known since he was three. The phone rang once...twice...three times...then...

"_McGee residence."_

Tim couldn't help it. At the sound of that voice, he started to cry again. "Mom?" he asked.

"_Tim?"_


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

The voice on the other end of the line was so full of hopeful disbelief that Tim couldn't even speak.

"_Tim...is that really you?"_

"It's me, Mom," Tim whispered into the phone. "It's me."

"_And me here all alone. Of all the days for your father to have a meeting! We finally got Sarah to go back to school and...they'll never believe me!"_

Tim knew that his mother was usually much more in control of her emotions. She wasn't a babbler...except when things were too big to contain...like now.

"_Wait...I know there's a way of recording on our phone. We finally got new ones, Tim."_ Naomi's voice was teary. _"I have to record this...let me see."_

"Mom...it's..."

"_Wait! I've got it. Tim, are you all right? Where are you? What happened?"_

"I'm okay. I'm okay, Mom. I'm..." Tim laughed a little. "I'm on American Samoa."

"_Where?!"_

"American Samoa...about...halfway between New Zealand and Hawaii."

"_I know where it is, Tim, but why? Nevermind, that doesn't matter. We'll come. We'll come and get you."_

"You can't, Mom," Tim said, trying to hold back the tears. "There was a hurricane. The phones were out until yesterday. Even now, I'm on a sat phone. The airport's closed until further notice. You wouldn't be able to make it. I'm coming back. I promise." Now that he was actually talking to his mother, Tim knew he would have to go back. He couldn't stay away anymore, no matter how hard it would be. He had to go back. "I'll only be here until my doctor–"

"_Your doctor? What happened?"_

"Nothing, Mom. It's okay. I'm fine."

"_You have a doctor, Tim. People don't have doctors telling them it's safe to travel when they're fine."_

Tim took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I got shot, Mom," he said, but continued quickly. "It's okay, though. It was...a little infected, but I'm okay."

"_You got shot? Tim...what happened to you? Where have you been for the last eight months? We thought you were dead_."

"What happened?" Tim asked, feeling the tears again. It was somehow a lot worse telling his mother what had really happened to him. "Pretty much every bad thing you could imagine." The tears overwhelmed him for a moment.

"_I can imagine some pretty bad things, Tim. I'm your mother."_

"I know."

There was a silence as the implications of Tim's agreement hit Naomi, and Tim found that he couldn't bear telling her anything more than he had. Not now.

"Mom, this is...an expensive call. I should probably..."

"_Okay, Tim, you don't want to talk about it, but don't hang up. Please, don't. Where have you been all this time? On Samoa?"_

"No. I've been...to all the places I always wanted to go," Tim said, the tears flowing heavily again. "Rome, Madrid, Cairo...lots of places."

"_Who did this to you?"_

"No one, Mom. I wasn't...kidnapped. I was..." Tim stopped. Telling her that he was on the run would bring around the question of why the run was now over. A hand gripped his shoulder tightly and Tim looked back to see Gibbs behind him. "I was on the run, Mom."

"_From whom?"_

"...just...it was..."

"_...but you're safe now?"_

"Yes. I'm safe. I'm safe...Mom. I'll...I've really got to go." He did, too. This call was as painful as it was therapeutic. "I'll call again...when I can."

Naomi seemed to understand, even though she didn't want to hang up on the first communication she had with her only son in months.

"_You'd better. I can't wait to tell your father...and Sarah... Tim...I'm so glad you're safe. I love you."_

Tim could only whisper his response. "I love you, too. 'Bye, Mom."

"_Good-bye, Tim."_

Tim waited and Naomi didn't hang up...neither one wanted to break the connection, but finally, Tim replaced the receiver and sank back into the seat, breathing deeply.

"I couldn't tell her, Boss. I couldn't tell her how much I've changed. I couldn't find the words to tell her."

"You will...and you know, McGee, I wouldn't worry too much about that. Family has a way of being accepting of changes."

Tim looked up at Gibbs again. "Did..." He hesitated.

"Did my family accept the changes in me when I went to war?"

Tim flushed a little.

"Yes, they did. It wasn't immediate, but people who love you will accept changes...and based on how your family acted when you first disappeared? I wouldn't worry about them not loving you."

Tim stood up and followed Gibbs out of the room. "I hurt them, didn't I?"

"Yes, McGee, you did," Gibbs said, matter-of-factly. "Because they were afraid that their son was hurt or dead. That would have been the case even if you had told them that you were leaving. They wouldn't have known if you were safe...because more than likely you wouldn't have been safe."

They walked together in silence for a few minutes.

"Are you sure you want to go back?"

"No, but I'm going to. I have to."

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yes. If you didn't, one of two things would happen. Either Ziva and Tony would force you to come back or else you'd stay here and Abby would drop everything to come here and bring you back. Either way, it's a lot of lost productivity."

Tim laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Do that." Gibbs looked at his watch. "We're not going to get anything else done today, not before the sun goes down. You have an assignment, McGee."

"What's that?"

"I need you to write down every place you've been in the past eight months."

Tim opened his mouth to protest.

"Do the best you can. I don't want details. I just need a list."

"Why?"

Gibbs gave him that stare that said, _you know why_, and then he kept walking. Tim swallowed the lump in his throat. He wasn't sure why Gibbs wanted this to be done, but he would do it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Eight months earlier..._

"Abby, are you sure McGee came with you?" Gibbs asked intently.

"Yes, Gibbs. He was right there. Tim wouldn't have left," Abby said, sitting up very slowly.

"Carefully, ma'am," the nurse said. "You didn't break anything but you are bruised and you had a bad concussion."

"I'll be careful. Gibbs, that car was aiming for me."

"What?"

"It wasn't an accident. It was coming right at me. It didn't swerve or anything."

Gibbs was floored...more than that, he was angry. Tim had left Abby at the hospital when someone had tried to kill her! He pulled out his phone and stepped out of the room for a moment. There was no answer from Tim's phone. That made him even more annoyed. He dialed another number.

"Ziva!"

"_What is it, Gibbs?"_

"I need you to go to McGee's apartment."

"_Why?"_

"Someone hit Abby tonight. She says that it wasn't an accident. She was at McGee's place...but McGee left her here."

"_McGee left Abby by herself when she was injured? That does not make any sense."_

"I know. Find him and drag him back here."

"_Is Abby all right?"_

"Yes. She'll be fine. McGee pulled her out of the way and she only got a glancing blow. Bad enough, but not serious."

"_I will find him."_

But Ziva didn't find him. No one did and by Monday morning, they were forced to call Tim's parents.

"_Tim isn't here, Agent Gibbs. Why would you think he was? The last he told us, he was working on an important case and wouldn't be able to talk to us much. That was over a month ago."_

"He was. The case is finished now," Gibbs said, sourly. "You haven't heard from him since then?"

Naomi sounded worried. _"No. Agent Gibbs...is something wrong? Is Tim missing?"_

"It's looking that way."

The next day, Naomi and Sam showed up at NCIS headquarters, wanting to know what had happened to their son. By the time, even Gibbs was worried that something serious had happened. There was _nothing_ to indicate where Tim had gone. No ransom, no body, no communication...except...

"I got a message from Tim," Sarah said.

"What? And you didn't say anything?" Naomi exclaimed.

"I didn't know!" Sarah protested. "It was an email! I didn't check until just this morning! He gave me access to his bank accounts so I could pay his rent for him."

"His rent?"

"McGee _planned_ this?" Ziva asked. "That is not possible."

"If you're implying that my son would turn traitor, you're darn right it's not possible," Sam said firmly.

"No one is saying anything yet. What we know is that McGee is missing. That's _all_ we know. I'm missing two team members right now; so I'm getting help from another team here. We're going to find McGee. We will."

It was a promise...but not even Gibbs could have anticipated how long it would take for that promise to be fulfilled.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Present..._

Tim sat on his hospital bed looking at a piece of paper. It was blank. He'd been staring at it for a long time. It wasn't because he didn't know _what_ to write down, but because he didn't _want_ to write it down. It was impossible for him to write the names of the places he'd been without remembering what he'd done there.

London...he'd been in a daze when he got there. The laptop he'd stolen from the Sphinx had sat on his lap (except during takeoff and landing). He got off the plane and wandered around the airport until a kind worker had asked him where he was going. It was only at that moment that he had realized what he had just done.

Where had he gone next? He wasn't sure. That period was so muddled...that first week or so of being on the run. He remembered being in France, in a little town near Paris...but not _in_ Paris. Where had he been before that?

_London...then, where?_ Tim wracked his brain. He hadn't stayed in any of the places very long. It had been a series of desperate hops. _Edinburgh!_ Tim sighed and remembered just _why_ the Edinburgh stay had been so short: He'd almost been mugged. _Next?_

Switzerland...Now, it came clear. He had stayed in Bern for two days before someone had found him, forcing him to run again. That was the first time he'd used his knife, but not lost it...which had led him to...the place where he'd used his sandpaper. He couldn't remember which city that had been...and he didn't want to. He left a blank space and moved on. That place outside Paris...

Athens...He'd seen the Acropolis. Tim smiled briefly. It had been one of the few nice moments. No one had found him in Athens. He'd had the chance to see the Parthenon.

Rome..._and I might have killed someone there..._

Madrid...Sydney...Cairo...Bangkok...Auckland...and here.

There was still that empty space...staring him in the face. He couldn't remember, just like he couldn't remember what he had done after shooting Tony. However, his ceaselessly analytical mind was telling him something...

_The knife I lost to the Sphinx when he shot me...that was my fourth one. _He was mentally counting up the number of times he had used and lost a knife...and was coming up one short.

"You finished, McGee?"

Tim jumped and looked up. There must have been something in his expression because Gibbs walked over to the bed and sat down at the foot.

"You done?"

Tim handed over the page with shaking hands. "I can't go back, Boss. Not with this...with all this that I've done. How can I face my family knowing that–?"

"There's a blank space here, McGee," Gibbs said, cutting him off.

"I don't remember," Tim said softly.

"What happened there?"

"I used the sandpaper...and..."

"And what?"

"I think I killed someone else...but I don't know. I don't know, Boss. It's like I can see the moment so clearly...but I blocked the rest of it out."

"Because you _can't_ remember or because you don't _want_ to remember?" Gibbs asked.

"I don't want to," Tim said immediately. There was no point in pretending otherwise. "I don't want want to know what I did. What I managed to do to myself was bad enough."

"That was your turning point, wasn't it."

"What do you mean?"

"That was the time when you really started to change."

Tim nodded, his teeth clenched as his hand rubbed the scar on his shoulder.

"So...what happened?"

"I don't _know_! I told you already. I don't remember and I don't want to remember. I just want to forget it."

"Looks like you already have." Gibbs sounded almost scornful and Tim felt ashamed.

"I just..."

"Where were you, McGee?"

"I don't remember," Tim whispered, staring at the page at that single missing line. "I don't remember."

Even while he denied it, unbidden, images welled up in his head of crowds, people so close together that it was hard to get by, accents, unfamiliar words.

"I couldn't speak the language."

"That doesn't narrow it down a whole lot, McGee," Gibbs said, still sounding unconcerned. "You don't speak very many languages."

Tim didn't even seem to hear him as he stared. More sights, followed by sounds, shouting and...

"...a call to prayer...I heard a call to prayer," Tim said.

"Where were you?" Gibbs asked again, his voice now nearly as soft as Tim's.

"It was right after I got rid of the brand. I was on the floor of the bathroom. It was dirty and there was blood all over...and out the window I heard the call to prayer."

"Where?"

"I had tried not to make noise, but I couldn't help it. It hurt so much."

Tony came into the room and opened his mouth to speak, but Gibbs held up a hand and he stopped at the sight of Tim's expression, still staring at the one line he couldn't fill in.

"He must have been following me. I just didn't see him."

"Where were you?" Gibbs repeated.

"I was cleaning up the blood. I had tried to keep it all in the sink, but I fell and I was still bleeding. It hurt, but it had to be done. I didn't hear the door open. The water was running in the sink. I had put a bandage on it...it was soaked already."

Tony looked a bit ill and a lot uncomfortable, but he didn't speak...and Tim didn't even notice him.

"I killed him...and all the while I could hear the call to prayer. I jumped out the window. He followed me. We were near the river. I could hear him behind me. I knew I couldn't outrun him. I looked back once...and he was just intent on getting to me. I tripped, fell down. He was there in a moment. I don't know how I didn't die. I reached for my knife. I got it...hit his chin with the top of my head as I tried to get up...and then, I stabbed him...from the front this time. We were right by the river...and the body fell into the water. I let it go. I was bleeding. I went back to the hotel, got my things and I left. I walked...to a train station and rode to Bucharest, stowed away...and then I took a plane."

"Where were you?"

"Istanbul," Tim said. "I was in Istanbul. I killed a man there. No maybes. I killed him. I hurt myself and I killed a man." Finally, Tim looked away from the page, from the blank space that could now be filled. "I can't go back, Boss...not with what I've done. I can't do it."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

"Thanks for helping me out, Ziva," Stan said as they drove back to the Medical Center. "I could have done it on my own and commandeered some guys to help, but I don't like to do that if I don't have to."

"My pleasure. It was a nice break from cleaning up houses."

"You guys planning on shipping out with us or will you wait for the airport to open again?"

Ziva shrugged. "I am not sure. I think it depends more on McGee than on anyone else."

"What's he...like?" Stan asked. "He seems..."

"He is not acting like the McGee I knew, at least not completely."

"What's the McGee you knew?"

"A computer geek. Very nice and...a little naive, even though he has been an agent for five years."

"And now?"

"Now, he is...not that way. He is more..." Ziva shrugged and then stared at Stan as he put on the brakes. "What are you doing?"

"There's no way we're going to make it through this town before the sun sets and no one is supposed to go anywhere during Sa."

"What _is_ Sa? Iopu mentioned it, but he did not explain it."

"It's a..." Stan hesitated. "...I'd guess you'd call it a ritual, although it's not exactly. Everyone has a special prayer when the sun goes down. It's kind of like an island-wide prayer meeting. No one is supposed to go into a town once it starts and if you're in the middle of the town, you're supposed to stand silently until it's over. I'd prefer to wait outside of town."

"How long does it take?"

"Not long. It's just a prayer. Each family does it on their own. Some of the squids have been invited to them when we put in at Pago Pago before, not many, but a few. We just need to wait until we see someone moving around again. Most wouldn't be too upset if we were sitting in the middle of the road in the town, but some would be...of course, some would be no matter what."

"Why is that?"

"Some of the Samoans just don't like foreigners, _any_ foreigners. It doesn't matter where they're from or how they act. Just the fact that they're foreigners makes them distasteful."

"I have heard of that, but I have not met anyone like that yet."

"If you're lucky you won't. Most of them aren't like that at all, but, like those tourists who live up to every single bad stereotype, the few who are ruin it for everyone."

The two fell silent for a minute or two and watched as the sun disappeared below the horizon.

"It will only be a few minutes now."

Ziva was quiet for a few more seconds and she said, "I am used to McGee being nervous. He gets nervous very easily. I am not used to him being afraid...and he has been afraid for so long that he does not know how not to be anymore. That is how he is different."

"He seemed pretty tense."

Ziva smiled at the understatement. "At first, I thought the way he had changed the most was because of the fact that he had killed someone...but now...now, I know it is not that. It is his fear that has changed him."

Silence, again, descended and then, they saw people leaving their homes. Sa was over. Stan put the car back in gear and they continued on their trek.

"Hey, Ziva," he began, just as they saw the lights from the hospital.

"Yes?"

"You know, carting a body around isn't the most romantic thing in the world."

Ziva smiled. "No, it is not...but I have had worse dates."

Stan chuckled. "I don't think I even want to know, but...should the opportunity arise before we go our separate ways, would you like to go on a date with me? It might be nothing more than a crappy dinner in the mess, but...it's something."

Ziva gave him a speculative glance as he pulled into the parking lot.

"I would not find that distasteful."

"Is that a yes?"

"I do believe it is."

"Great! We'll see what is available."

"Very well." Ziva opened the door and climbed out, then watched as Stan pulled out again and drove back toward Pago Pago. Of all the things she had anticipated when they had found out where Tim was...getting a date had not been _remotely_ on the list.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You can't go back?" Gibbs asked. "Why not?"

"I don't belong. I'm not..."

"McGee, if you think I'm going to let you back out of coming with us...after you told you _mother_ you're coming back? You're crazy," Gibbs said. "I'll hogtie you myself if I have to."

"I've changed so much, Boss. I don't belong. It's not right for me to go back."

"What do you mean you've changed, McGee?" Tony asked, speaking up. "How?"

"Haven't you been listening? I killed someone...lots of someones."

"People who were trying to kill _you_, McGee."

"But I didn't have to."

"You didn't?"

"I could have found another way. I just didn't want to."

Tony's expression was actually amused. "You had who knows how many paid mercenaries after you...and you think you could have figured out another way?"

"There's always another way."

Tony sat down on the other side of the bed. "You haven't changed, McGee."

"Yeah, I have!" Tim exclaimed, looking at Tony in disbelief. "I would never have done any of this before."

"Do you know why you wouldn't have?"

"Just...I..."

"Because it never happened to you before, McGee," Tony said. "You've always had the ability...okay, maybe not with the knife throwing, but still, you've always been willing to do what it takes. It just didn't take... violence much before."

Tim flinched at the word...because he knew what word Tony was avoiding.

"McGee, what I'm saying is that you only think you've changed. If you'd really changed as much as you think you have, you wouldn't feel so bad about it."

Tim looked up from the bed, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "That's kind of circular reasoning."

"Doesn't mean it's not true."

"Are you sure?"

"Nope!" Tony laughed. "I've never been hunted, McGee. I've been undercover and stuff like that, but never hunted. No one knows what it will feel like, how they'll react to something before it happens to them."

Tim seemed to relax a little, but both Tony and Gibbs could tell that he wasn't feeling reassured...but he didn't comment further. He just got up, holding the paper in his hand. "I'm going to...walk."

"Where to?" Ziva asked, standing in the doorway.

Tim shrugged. "Just out."

"I will accompany you."

"I really wanted to be alone, Ziva," Tim said quietly.

"You have been alone for months. Surely, a few minutes with me will not be overly offensive." She smiled at him.

Tim managed a small smile back.

"Gibbs, the body has been stowed, along with all the evidence. Stan and I talked with the police here and they had no problem with allowing us jurisdiction."

"Of course they didn't," Tony said. "They give us jurisdiction, they don't have to worry about taking care of the body of a guy they don't care about anyway."

"Regardless, Stan had to go back to the Nimitz. He says that they will be under way in a couple of days."

"Yeah? And what _else_ did you and Stan talk about, Ziva?" Tony asked, leering.

"How incredibly nice it feels to have sex on the beach with the tide rolling in," Ziva answered without blinking an eye.

"You–? What? No!"

Ziva merely stared back without speaking. From behind them, there was a small chuckle, quickly suppressed as Gibbs headslapped Tony. Then, Ziva smiled wickedly and followed Tim out the door.

"She didn't...did she? She wouldn't," Tony sputtered.

Gibbs headslapped him again.

"Thanks, Boss."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What is that, McGee?" Ziva asked as they walked out of the hospital.

Tim looked down at the list of places. He handed it over to her without a word.

"What is it?" she asked again. "It must be something more than a list of cities."

"It's all the places I went." He sped up, leaving her momentarily behind.

"It bothers you?"

"You think it shouldn't?" Tim retorted.

Ziva blinked. "I was not criticizing you, McGee. I was asking a question."

"Yeah, it bothers me!" Tim said, stopping and turning around. "I just remembered what that blank space is!" His voice rose as he took the page from her hand and pointed at the line. "I _killed_ someone there, Ziva! I killed a man after scraping all the skin off my shoulder! I bled all over the bathroom and then I let a man's body fall into the Bosporus! So..._yeah_, it bothers me!"

"Did it bother you before?"

"Before what?"

"Before we came here?"

Tim was ready to shout again, but then, he stopped. He looked down at the page. "I blocked it out before. There was nothing to be gained by remembering; so I let it go."

"You did not let it go. You hid it. That is different. So...why now?"

"Why now...what?"

"Why does it bother you now?"

Tim started walking away again.

"Why, McGee?" Ziva asked, easily catching up. "Is it us? Are we making it hard for you?"

"No."

"Then, what? Is it the Sphinx?"

"No."

"Your family?"

"No!"

"NCIS? Going back to work?"

"Stop it, Ziva!" Tim shouted. He stopped in the middle of the road. "Just stop!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop...trying to figure it out!"

"Why? I am concerned about you, McGee. I...I have missed you. We were afraid you might be dead. I admit that I thought you were. Why should I stop now that we have you back...and you seem to want only to run away again?"

Tim walked across the street and down to a small stretch of beach. He kicked off his shoes and walked along the edge of the water. Ziva followed suit. When she judged he was calm again, she repeated her question.

"What is it that bothers you so much?"

Tim didn't answer for a while. He just dug his toes into the wet sand, making small depressions that filled with water each time the tide rolled up.

"Seeing you guys...knowing you haven't changed. Tony says I haven't either, but I have...if only because...of what I've had to do to stay alive." Tim looked up, almost pleadingly at Ziva. "I'd never _had_ to worry about that before. I've never been the only person I could lean on for help! When I was bullied, I could...sometimes tell my parents or my teachers. When I shot Benedict, I had you guys. Same with when Sarah got in trouble, same with when that guy, Landon, starting killing the characters from my book." He looked back at his feet. "I know you guys thought I was soft. I was." He smiled sadly. "I liked it, in a way. I liked that regardless of what happened, I was still the one everyone could count on to find the naive perspective. I'm not naive anymore. I've seen and done too much."

"Yes, that is probably true, but what is it really?"

"Out here? It's easy. Even on the run. I don't have to think about what I did. I lived in the moment because dwelling on the past or thinking too far in the future was a way to get myself killed. So...I don't have to think about it. There are no invidious comparisons with me before and me after. I don't have to see the things around me and realize that some of them may not matter to me anymore."

"You are afraid of returning to the past?"

"I guess."

"We are not the same, you know," Ziva said. "We all changed after you disappeared."

"You don't seem that different to me. You're just like I remembered."

"You look very different, McGee, but you do not seem much changed either."

"I feel different. Ever since Istanbul, I've felt different...like a stranger, like something not even human."

"Have you ever considered that the reason this is so hard for you is because you are becoming human again?"

"I don't remember it being so hard," Tim said.

Ziva smiled and sat down in the sand. "Living is hard work, McGee." She patted the sand beside her and Tim sat as well. "Just being alive is not. All you must do is allow your body to do its work. To live...that is much more difficult. You were used to living before, but then, you shut yourself down. I understand why. It is easier that way. It keeps you sane...keeps you alive." She looked out at the ocean. "But you cannot live that way all your life. I do not pretend it will be easy, but...believe me, it is worth the effort."

"Hey! You two have room for a couple more?" Tony called.

Ziva looked at Tim. He nodded slightly.

"Yes! Come and join us!"

Tim didn't look at them, but he felt the presence of Tony and Gibbs as they settled in the sand. They all sat silently and watched as the stars came out.

"The constellations are different," Tim said. "I had to refresh my memory on the southern constellations when I came here."

"Which one is your favorite?" Ziva asked.

"Dorado," Tim said. "That's where the Large Magellanic Cloud is...El Dorado was supposed to be a city of gold, of hidden treasures. That's what you find in the constellation."

"I like Crux, myself," Ziva said.

"The Southern Cross?" Tony asked. "I'm more of a zodiac man myself. I like..."

"Virgo," everyone said simultaneously.

"How did you know I was going to say that?"

"It's the only female sign in the zodiac," Ziva said. "What about you, Gibbs? Do you have a favorite southern constellation?"

"Vela. It's the sail of the Argo," Gibbs said, looking up. He pointed to it. There was no need for more explanation.

They all fell silent again, looking at the sky, looking at the ocean, not saying what needed to be said.

"McGee," Gibbs began, breaking the silence, "do you really want to stay here?"

"I don't know if I can go back."

"That's not what I asked. Do you want to stay here?"

"No," Tim admitted, still looking at the stars. "No, I don't want to stay."

"Then, you have to leave. There's no in-between here, McGee. I know you didn't like having to remember all that today."

"But I needed to, right?" Tim asked, a little sarcastically.

"Yes, you did. You need to face it now because it's going to be hard enough when you get back to DC, when you face your family, when you try and get your life back. It's not going to be easy. If you face it now, that's one less battle you'll have to fight."

"How many battles are there?" Tim asked, the sarcasm gone.

"As many as it takes, but this time, Tim, you won't be alone to fight them."

Tim swallowed the lump in his throat.

"That was worst part, you know."

"What was?" Tony asked.

"Being alone."

"Well, you're not now...and you won't be...if you're willing to come back."

Tim looked at Dorado, but then, his gaze shifted northward. "I always liked Corona Borealis. I've missed it."

"Which is that?"

"The Northern Crown. There's a galactic cluster there. You can't see it without a telescope, but just knowing it's there..." He stopped. Then, finally, he looked at his friends arrayed on either side.

"I want to go home."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

The next two days were slow. Now that the decision had been made...again...the others were anxious to get going in case Tim changed his mind...again. For his part, Tim tried not to think about it too much because it only frightened him. American Samoa was an easy place to be alive in...but it wasn't living he was doing out here. He had always known that he was simply running away. Now, he needed to stop running away and start running back.

There were some things he needed to do.

"Hey, Malaki, are you supposed to be out of bed yet?" Tim asked as he came into the store.

"Tagi! It is Wednesday!" Malaki said, grinning. "I am paying Luka to do all the stocking and I will only wait on customers. I always do good business after a storm."

Tim smiled back. "Is Luka here?"

"In the back. Is there something you need?"

"Only for a couple more days."

"Ah, you _are_ leaving us, then?"

"Yes."

"Well, I know that it is for the best, but I will miss you, Tagi."

"I'll miss you, too, Malaki."

"Oh, I do believe we have some things that belong to you."

"Belong to me?"

"Yes." He turned his head. "Luka! Bring Tagi's things!"

Luka came running out seconds later, carrying a small box.

"Tagi! You look so much better now than you did."

"Thanks, Luka."

"Or do you want us to call you Timothy now?"

"Either way. I went by Tagi for six months. It's not a bad name."

"It is silly, though when we know who you are."

"We always knew who he was," another voice chimed in. Tim looked back and smiled. "We just didn't know his name."

"Very clever, Noelani," he said. "So, what do you have that's mine?"

Luka held out the box. Tim opened it and felt the mood in the room change almost immediately. Tim set the box on the counter and pulled out his wallet and his badge. He fingered them lovingly.

"I haven't worn these for months. I didn't dare even take them out for fear of someone seeing them and knowing who I was," he said softly. He slid them into his pockets. Then, he took out the gun. "I'm going to have to recertify. I haven't fired a gun for forever..." He smiled. "...and I wasn't ever really good at it." He looked at the three of them. "Thanks. Really. I'm so glad to be getting them back."

"You don't have to hide anymore, Tagi," Noelani said. "I understand. I, for one, am glad that you were able to still help even if you didn't have your gun."

Tim smiled but his eyes were sad.

"I know you now regret it, but I do not. I see nothing other than you saving my life...and for that I thank you. I only have one."

"I don't regret saving your life, Noelani. I'd never regret that."

"Good. We will miss you here."

"I'll miss you. I'll miss all of you. I'll miss being here, but..."

"But you must go back home," Luka finished for him. "Perhaps I will get into a college in the United States. Then, I could go and visit you." He grinned.

"If you do make it out to Washington, D.C., you'd better." He looked at his watch. "I promised Seoeli that I'd come by to settle up my rent. I'd better do that."

Noelani hugged him, as did Luka. Malaki shook his hand across the counter.

"I'm sorry you all got dragged into–"

"Do not apologize," Noelani said. "I do not regret it in the slightest."

Tim raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, I did not enjoy being held at gunpoint, but the rest of it, I would not trade."

Tim chuckled. "I'm glad. I don't regret coming here."

"Good-bye," Luka said.

"Tofa," Tim replied, smiling. Then, he walked out of the store.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You were a good tenant, Tagi," Seoeli said. "I will be sorry to see you go. Who else would rent my house away from the ocean?"

Tim smiled. "Someone as desperate as I was. Fa'afetai."

"Your pronunciation is improving. Another month here would get rid of the worst of it. Are sure you must leave?" Seoeli wheedled. He was old and not above trying to squeeze a bit more money out of his great tenant.

"Yes, I'm sure. Do you want any help with the repairs?"

"Oh, no. I'll just hire Luka."

"Is he a carpenter as well?"

"Not yet...of course, if you were to stay..."

Tim just laughed. "I'll come back. I promise."

"I'll keep the house open for just such a possibility." Seoeli stuck out his hand and Tim shook it without hesitation.

"Tofa, Seoeli."

"Tofa, 'Olo'o Tagata Tagi. Feel free to stay in the house until you leave. I will not even charge you."

"I will be staying in the hospital, but thank you. For everything." Tim smiled once more and left. He had one more stop to make, but it wasn't to see a person. It was to see a place.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The storm hadn't destroyed his house, but it had damaged it. Tim walked inside and was appalled at what the wind had done.

"Man, McGee, you lived here?" Tony asked from behind him.

"It wasn't like this before the hurricane, Tony." Tim walked into the bedroom and picked up his bag from the closet.

Tony had followed him. "That bag certainly has seen better days."

"So have I. That's no reason to throw it out." It came out more angrily than Tim had intended and he immediately turned around. "Tony, I'm so–"

Tony shook his head. "Don't apologize."

"Sign of weakness?" Tim asked, the phrase coming easily.

"No. Just don't apologize because it's not needed." He stepped closer. "Wait...is that your bag?"

"Yeah."

"You kept it this whole time?"

Tim shrugged. "It was important."

"I can see that."

Tim gathered his meager belongings and Tony couldn't help but notice how bedraggled they all were.

"Please don't tell me that those are the same clothes the Sphinx packed for you."

"Okay, I won't." Tim said nothing else.

"Probie?"

"Yeah?" Tim was staring at the now-packed bag.

"When we get back to DC you are going shopping."

Tim laughed, but he didn't turn around and Tony guessed that he was trying not to cry.

"Not time for that yet?"

"Not just yet."

"Okay. Want me to wait outside?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." Tony withdrew silently, leaving Tim to his thoughts.

Somehow, it wasn't the house that was hard to leave, it was what it represented. Tim had hidden here so successfully for so long. It was going to be hard to face the world once more. He walked to the back window and stared at the yard, stared into the trees where he had seen the Sphinx, where his road back home had begun. There was no use looking back, not anymore...not when he knew he had a future.

Tim picked up the bag, tattered and torn, a faded remnant of what he had let himself become. Only one strap was whole and even that was on the verge of breaking off completely. He'd be surprised if it lasted the whole flight. He knew there were a lot of difficult things waiting for him back in DC, but he thought that he might be able to handle it. His bag had lasted. His clothes had lasted. He had survived this.

He straightened his shoulders. _I can survive what comes next._ He left the house and joined Tony on the trek back to the hospital.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat at the phone, wondering what he'd say. Wondering if he'd be given a chance to say _anything_ at all. That thought brought a smile to his face and gave him enough courage to dial.

"_Abby Sciuto."_

"Abby, I don't hear any music playing."

There was a long silence and Tim wondered if she'd hung up on him.

"_Tim? Is that you?"_

"Are you mad at me, Abby?" Tim asked, hating that his voice sounded so plaintive.

"_Oh my gosh! Tim! It's you! It's really you!"_ There was a sudden flood of music. _"I can't believe it! I mean, I knew it because they told me, but I didn't believe, not really...even though I knew it was true because they wouldn't tease me about something like this...and...Tim, wow! I can't believe I'm talking to you! I can't believe that you're alive, that you...How could you leave me like that? How could you just disappear? How come you never called? How come–?"_

"I missed you, too, Abby," Tim said, breaking into her monologue. "I almost called a million times, but I didn't dare. I'm sorry."

"_Sorry? You're sorry?"_ He couldn't decide if she was angry or not.

"Yes. I am. I'm sorry I left you at the hospital. I'm sorry I left you at all. I'm sorry you were nearly killed because of my clumsiness. I'm sorry that–"

"_Shut up, Tim! I don't care! You're alive! You're coming back home! But if you ever do this again, I'll kill you!"_

"I think you'll have to get in line."

"_Tim, are you crying?"_

Annoyingly, Tim felt the tears and heard them in his voice. "No."

"_Liar. You are. Tim, I'm not mad. I'm just so happy that you're alive."_

"That's not why I'm...not crying. I've missed you."

"_Then, come back here and you won't have to anymore!"_

"Yes, ma'am."

They talked for a few more minutes and then Tim had to hang up, but he didn't want to. Still, there was another call and it would be hard to do, just because these calls were hard.

"_McGee residence, Sam speaking."_

"Hi, Dad. It's Tim."

There was that long silence, that pause that he had come to expect, letting people assimilate the sound of his voice.

"_I...I'm so happy to hear your voice again, Tim,"_ Sam said softly. _"Naomi! Tim's on the phone!"_

Tim heard an answering shout from Naomi and...faintly, an additional one and then the extension clicked on.

"_Tim!"_ That was Sarah. She sounded almost giddy.

"_Tim, is everything all right?"_

"Yeah, Mom. Everything is fine. Hi, Sarah."

"_Mom played me the recording but I wasn't sure I believed it even then...Tim, it's really you?"_

"It's me. I can't stay on long, but I wanted to tell you that I'm coming home in a couple of days. I'm not sure exactly when because we're taking CODs and I'm not sure about the delays between flights."

"_Are you coming into DC?"_ Sam asked, sounding remarkably calm.

"_You're really coming back?"_ Sarah interjected.

"We'll get to DC, but we'll land at Norfolk...yes, I'm really coming back." Tim was determined to stay as calm as his family. It sounded like they'd practiced it. He also noticed that none of them were asking him any questions about his time away. He hesitated but then asked, "Do you want to know what happened?"

"_Not if you're not ready to tell us,"_ Sam said firmly.

"_We don't want to rush you, Tim."_

Sarah was the only honest one. _"Yes. I do. Well, I do! Tim's been gone for so long and now he's just miraculously turned up again. I want to know!"_

"I was on the run," Tim said before Sarah could be lectured by their parents. He took a deep breath before continuing. "There was a hit on me. I wasn't thinking very clearly, but I started running and I haven't been able to stop. I had to do some...awful things to stay alive...and I know I look different than I did. I won't be the same, not exactly, but I hope that won't bother you too much."

"_I love you, Tim. I don't care what you're like or what you did. I just want my brother back."_

"I love you, too, Sarah. I love you all and I've missed you more than I can say."

"_That's the only reason you get to come back,"_ Sam said, but Tim could hear his smile. _"Fly safe. We'll be waiting."_

"I'll be there. I promise." Tim swallowed the annoying lump which insisted on coming back again. "I have to go."

Tim had to be the one to hang up again, but it was as hard as the first time. He took a deep breath and got up. He knew that everyone was waiting, but there was one more place he needed to go, and he needed to go there alone.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"It is late, 'Olo'o Tagata Tagi."

"I know, Femi. I apologize for disturbing you in the evening," Tim said. "I am leaving in the morning, and I would just like to sit on your beach one more time before I go."

"You are leaving Samoa?"

"Yes."

"I had heard something to that effect. Yes, you may use our beach." Femi looked as though he would close the door, but then, he spoke again, "Pe 'e te toe fo'i mai?"

Tim smiled at the challenge in his eyes and he considered. He had to figure out what Femi had asked before he could try to formulate an answer.

"'Ou te toe fo'i mai lava. If I'm welcome, of course."

There was only a glimmer of amusement in his eyes at Tim's pronunciation. "You are."

"Fa'afetai."

"'O ai lou igoa?"

Tim smiled. He had heard this question a lot when he first came. Now, he could answer it. "Timothy McGee."

"Tofa, Timothy McGee."

"Tofa, Femi Pu'u."

The door closed and Tim crossed to the small section of beach owned by the Pu'u family, the same place he had spent so many hours, so many days. This was something he would genuinely miss. He had come to enjoy the quiet hours.

"Talofa," a quiet voice said.

Tim jumped and looked behind him and smiled. "That means hello, doesn't it?"

"Yes. What brings you here?"

Tim's smile grew wider as he remembered a similar conversation from six months before.

"Just...saying good-bye, I guess. I've said it to everyone else."

"You even got Femi to allow you on his beach at night. He must really like you."

"He doesn't hate me."

"Do you mind if I sit beside you?"

"No. Not at all."

Noelani sat beside him. "You are not a tourist," she said and when Tim looked over at her, he could see her grinning, even in the dim light.

"How do you know?"

"You do not do the things tourists do."

"No, I'm not a tourist."

"Then, what are you?"

"I'm a man who was trying to hide from everyone...and now doesn't have to."

"What is your name?"

"Timothy McGee, but I prefer Tim."

"Hello, Tim. I am Noelani Siimalevai." She held out her hand. Tim shook it.

"Nice to meet you, Noelani."

"And you, Tim." Then, she turned back to the ocean. "It will be strange here without you. I have become accustomed to your presence."

"It will be strange not to be here anymore."

"I am glad you get to go home. Everyone should have that chance."

"I know I already said good-bye to you, Noelani, but I hope it's not forever. Fa'afetai."

"What are you thanking me for? You saved my life, Tagi."

Tim turned to her very earnestly. "You saved mine, first."

"It is what friends do, is it not?"

"Yes. It is. Thank you, Noelani. I don't know when I'll get back here, but I'll never forget you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"You are very welcome...Tim." Noelani knelt in the sand and hugged Tim tightly. "When I can talk some sense into Iafeta, I will invite you to our wedding."

"I'd like that."

"Now, I must go, or people will talk."

"Tofa, Noelani Siimalevai."

"Tofa, Timothy McGee."

He watched her walk away and then stood up himself. The farewells had been said. The loose ends were tied up. Now, all that remained was one thing...

...to leave.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Translation from Samoan:

Pe 'e te toe fo'i mai?: Will you come back?

'Ou te toe fo'i mai lava.: I will certainly return.

'O ai lou igoa?: What is your name?


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

"Do you have everything, McGee?" Ziva asked.

Tim jumped a little and turned back from his contemplation of Tutuila.

"What?"

"You looked as though you had forgotten something."

Tim smiled and looked back. "No. I haven't forgotten anything." He sighed and then turned around. "I'm just regretting that I have to get on a boat."

Ziva knew that wasn't what he'd been thinking about, but she allowed the statement to stand.

"We will only be on board for a few hours."

"It won't particularly matter, but that's a relief." Tim picked up his old, battered bag and followed Ziva onto the Nimitz.

"Welcome aboard, Agent McGee," Stan said, with a special smile for Ziva. "The COD's not due for four more hours, but you'll be on her when she takes off again."

"That's something to look forward to," Tim commented, absently. He had turned back to Tutuila again.

Ziva gave Stan a smile and jerked her head, indicating that he could leave.

"I'll get your gear out of the way," he said, understanding immediately. He took Ziva's bag, picked up Tim's and moved it under cover...and conveniently didn't come back.

Ziva walked over by Tim as he looked over the railing at the island which had been his home for half a year.

"It is hard to leave?"

Tim smiled. "Yeah. It's funny, though. I spent most of the time I was here wishing I was home...now that I'm finally leaving, part of me wants to stay."

"You were safe here."

"I was...for a while."

"Are you ready to live again, McGee?"

Tim looked at Tutuila for another long moment before straightening. "I think so."

"Then, stop looking back and look forward...and try not to throw up on me."

Tim laughed. "You know that might not be a joke."

"I know...and I am serious. Do not throw up on me."

"I won't." He started to follow her off the deck but then he stopped. "Ziva?"

"Yes?"

"What's waiting for me back there?"

Ziva turned around and smiled. "Your friends. Your family. ...your _life_ is waiting for you, McGee. So come and get it."

Tim nodded and joined Ziva as she walked off the deck.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Where is it? Shouldn't it be here by now?" Sarah asked, nearly pulling at her mother's arm.

"Tim told us that there was a delay in Hawaii. They should be here soon," Naomi answered calmly.

"'Patience is the best remedy for every trouble,'" Sam quoted, smiling at Sarah's sigh of exasperation. "Really, Sarah, you're not going to get the plane here any faster."

"I know...I'm just..."

"Excited. Worried. Nervous. We know," Naomi said, putting an arm around her.

The family stood in anxious silence as they waited. After another hour, a large plane came in for landing. They started forward but were kept back by the men on duty. The cargo plane came about and slowed to a stop, its propellers whirling rapidly. It seemed to take forever, but finally, the rear hatch opened. A man stepped out, down the ramp and onto the tarmac. He had a lanky build, but one that looked as though it had been achieved due to severe illness or starvation. His clothes, a t-shirt and ragged pants, hung on his frame loosely. He was also very very tan, his hair growing out from what looked like a buzz cut. A bag hung from one shoulder, that had seen much better days. He moved with a strange gait, favoring one side as he walked. He looked around as he walked and his eyes fell on them.

A smile appeared on his face and he looked more like someone they knew. His pace quickened and he approached them rapidly, but then, unaccountably, he stopped. His expression was tentative and he looked almost afraid. He took a step, paused and then took another one. It was as though he expected to be rejected at any moment. It was a long silent minute that they stood staring at each other, no one daring to move, both afraid that it was a dream from which they'd awaken.

Then, the man smiled hesitantly and half-lifted his arms. Naomi crossed the immeasurable gulf that had separated them all and hugged her son tightly in her arms. Tim's arms went around her, his bony limbs showing that he'd lost none of his strength, only his weight.

"Didn't you eat _anything _while you were gone?" Naomi asked, her voice a mere whisper as she spoke through her tears.

"Nothing could compare with your cooking, Mom," Tim whispered back. Tears fell down his cheeks. "I missed you so much."

That hug couldn't last forever...it couldn't even last a minute as Sarah and Sam joined them, both hugging Tim as though they wouldn't ever let him go again.

"I'm sorry I left," Tim said, still hugging Sam. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you."

"It's all right, Tim," Sam said. "I can't say we understand, but it's all right. You're back. That's what matters."

"What? No quotations?" Tim asked, with a teary laugh.

"I can't think of a single one," Sam said. "You'll have to make do with me this time."

As Tim straightened once more, Sam looked beyond him.

"Agent Gibbs, you kept your promise."

Gibbs, Ziva and Tony joined the family, but Gibbs shook his head.

"We didn't find him. Someone else found us."

"You brought him back," Naomi said. "I know my son. He wouldn't have come without someone to help him."

"We have to go to NCIS for a debriefing, although it's mostly a formality," Gibbs said. "Would you like to go back with them, McGee?"

Tim nodded and smiled. Gibbs could see the shadow of pain in his eyes. The delay in Hawaii had been more than refueling. It had given Tim a chance to recover a little. The COD had proved more jarring than Dr. Sivali had realized and Tim had felt the vibrations intensely. He hadn't shown any of that to his family, but it was there for those who knew to look for it. Tim had insisted on walking off the plane without any help, even though Tony and Ziva had needed to help him stand. He'd be fine after a few days of rest, but right now, he was definitely in pain.

"Hey, Probie, wait a sec!" Tony called. "Get over here!"

Tim looked at Tony strangely, but left his family to join Tony by the pile of bags.

"Here, McGee," Tony said in a hurried mutter. "You look like you're going to die. Take the pain medication Dr. Sivali gave you. You're not supposed to just _look_ at the bottle."

"It's not that bad, Tony," Tim protested.

"When you nearly collapse trying to walk by yourself? You don't want to worry your parents? I get that, but here." He thrust a dose into Tim's hands, looked over his shoulder and whispered. "Hurry, Gibbs has them distracted."

Tim obediently swallowed the medication, knowing that Tony was right. He just didn't want to ruin things by being groggy. It was only the COD that had made him ache so much. A night without being bounced around would see him right. As he walked back to rejoin his family, he amended that thought. Maybe two nights.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

At first, the ride to DC alternated between awkward silence and awkward conversation. It wasn't that they weren't all ecstatic to have Tim back, but the differences he had mentioned were very obvious...and it was equally obvious that Tim didn't particularly want to talk about what had caused those changes. He and Sarah sat on their respective sides of the car for the first half hour, but then, Sarah slid over and leaned against him. Tim smiled over her head at Sam who had looked back at them. He was glad that his injured side was against the door. Carefully, he put his arms around Sarah and leaned his head on hers. It was so nice just to sit and not have to worry about what was coming next...where he was going...what he'd do when he got there. He started to relax. Even if things were awkward, he was safe. He was home.

Eventually, Tim's head slid backward, off Sarah's head, to the seat back as he slipped into the sleep of the just. Naomi looked back at the two of them and smiled.

"I can't tell you how much I love looking back there and seeing Tim," she said softly so as not to wake the two in the back seat.

"I think the only who loves it more is Tim himself," Sam answered. "Even if he never tells us just what happened, it hasn't been a good time for him."

"He won't tell us...not unless he has to."

"You're right." Sam smiled back over his shoulder. "So...what do you think, my dear? Do we have our son back?"

Naomi smiled at him, but she was a little sad. "Yes, we do, but not completely, and I don't think we ever will. Too much happened out there. But that doesn't matter because Tim is still our son."

Sam didn't reply, but he reached out for Naomi's hand. She extended it and he kissed it gently.

"May all who struggle with such troubles have a woman like thee to watch over them."

Naomi laughed. "Who said that, Sam?"

"Just me."

"Liar."

"I _can_ occasionally be eloquent in my own right, Naomi. I swear it. That is an original Samuel McGee."

"Well, it's beautiful, and I expect you to write something fitting to go along with it."

"I'll work on that."

Tim and Sarah slept the rest of the way to DC.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tim?" Sam called. "Sarah? We're at the Yard."

Sarah sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. Tim, on the other hand, surged to consciousness, reaching down to his pant leg before remembering where he was.

"Are you okay, Tim?"

Tim swallowed and let out a quick breath. "Yeah. Sorry about that. It's...going to take some time for me to...not do that."

"Don't worry, Tim. I wish your mother would wake up like that instead of like a slug," Sam said, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Tim smiled, too, but he was subdued as they went into the building together. As they rode up the elevator to the bullpen, Tim was noticeably more tense than he had been in the car.

"What's wrong, Tim?" Naomi asked.

Tim tried to smile. "It's been a long time."

"It won't matter," she said, putting an arm around his waist. "They want you back. They promised they would find you and it doesn't matter that you've been gone or that you've changed."

The doors opened on the bullpen...and it looked just the same as it had the last time he'd seen it. Tim stepped off and wondered how come it seemed so much more beautiful than he remembered it.

"Timmy!!" The screech gave him two seconds to prepare before all however-many pounds of Abby slammed into him. It was at that moment that he was grateful for Tony making him take the pain pills.

"You're back! I'm so so glad you're back! I believed it was you I was talking to but I didn't believe it at the same time! I can't believe it!" Abby pulled back for a moment, looked at Tim and then hugged him tightly again. "Don't ever disappear like that again, Tim! Never! I was so worried. I was so...I'm so glad you're back!"

"I'm glad I'm back, too, Abby," Tim said and returned the hug. He felt a small twist and pulled back. "I'm sorry that–"

Abby stopped him with her hand. "No, Tim. No apologizing. It was a long time ago, not your fault and over over _over_!"

Tim tsked in exasperation as he felt the tears again. He was like a leaky faucet lately. "Oh, I'm so glad you see you, Abbs. The last time..."

"You know what the last thing I heard you say was?"

"What?"

"My name. You're always worrying about me."

"You could have been killed. I was so afraid you had," Tim said softly.

"I wasn't because you _saved_ me, Tim. So, don't think about it anymore. Please?"

"I don't know if I can stop yet, but I'll try."

Abby smiled and hugged him again. Then, she turned to the McGees and hugged each one in turn...just to show she hugged everybody.

"Agent McGee?"

Tim turned toward the stairs.

"Yes, Cynthia?"

"Welcome back, Director Shephard would like to speak to you in her office, please."

"Yes, I'll be right up."

"Are you going to be in trouble, Tim?" Naomi asked. "Because I'm not above going in and..."

"I don't think I am, Mom, but I have been gone a long time." He shrugged. "I'll be okay. Don't worry."

"I won't anymore...not now that you're back," she said and hugged him.

As Tim walked up the stairs, he figured he'd had more hugs in the last few hours than he had in probably the last few years, even discounting his time on the run.

"Go right on in. Agent Gibbs, Agent DiNozzo and Officer David are already inside. They must have been driving a lot faster than you were," Cynthia commented, smiling.

"That's not surprising. Thanks." He walked inside.

"Come in, Agent McGee," Jenny said, pointing to a chair, "and sit down before you collapse. You might be fooling some people, but I can see you're on the verge."

Tim blushed a little and sat down gratefully.

"I've just been updated on what you've been doing for the last eight months, Agent McGee. It seems to have been quite the ordeal."

She seemed to expect a response, but Tim couldn't think of anything to say so he just nodded.

"I take it you would like to come back to work at NCIS?"

"Yes," Tim squeaked and then cleared his voice and tried again. "Yes, ma'am...if it's possible. If not, I'll understand. I ran...and...I should have stayed. It's been a long time."

Jenny smiled. "While I appreciate your desire, I'm afraid that coming back right now is not a good idea."

Tim deflated but before he could try and stoically accept it, she continued with a twinkle in her eye.

"You seem to be in need of a real vacation, Agent McGee. Therefore, I think it would only be right for you to take two weeks paid leave before returning to NCIS."

The required mental shift left Tim gaping at her.

"If that's all right with you, of course," she added.

"Y-Yes...yes, ma'am. Really?"

"Of course, McGee. What happened is not your fault by any means. You acted as you saw fit and acquitted yourself as well as could be expected in terrible circumstances. I will expect a full account of everything you have done over the last eight months, but not until you return to work. I advise you to take some time with your family and your friends." She smiled. "And Agent DiNozzo has intimated that you are going to be in need of a wardrobe."

Tim smiled. The world seem a lot brighter than it had a few moments ago.

"The trial is underway for the leaders of the crime ring. Your testimony may or may not be required, but I will see to it that you are able to maintain a level of privacy and have the time to recover that you require."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Then, for now, Agent McGee, you are dismissed."

"Thank you, ma'am." Tim stood up and he was surprised when Jenny did as well. She walked around the table and put out her hand. Tim shook it.

"No, thank _you_, Agent McGee. You have done far more than should have ever been required of you."

Tim, again, didn't know what to say to that. He just nodded and tried to convey his complex feelings with his handshake. Jenny seemed to understand and smiled.

"Enjoy your vacation, Agent McGee."

Tim managed a real smile. "I think this is the first time that I haven't dreamed of going to the tropics on vacation."

"Do you want to go back there, Probie?" Tony asked, unable to keep silent any longer.

"Some day, Tony. I would...but not now." As he left, Tim had a feeling that he _would_ be going back to American Samoa. It wasn't a matter of if...just of when.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two weeks later..._

The elevator doors opened and Tim stepped hesitantly into the bullpen. He was still gaunt, still tan...still different, but he was dressed immaculately (with the exception of the incredibly ragged bag on his shoulder), he no longer had any distracting pain from his side and as he looked around the room, he couldn't suppress a big smile. No matter what complications might arise as he readjusted to being back, he was glad to be there.

"Don't just stand there gaping, McGee," Gibbs said, walking to his desk. "We've got a body out in Alexandria...on a soccer field. Let's roll!"

Tim grinned. "Coming, Boss!" He ran to his desk.

"McGee, you are back?" Ziva asked as she picked up her own bag.

"Yes. I'm back."

"Good. Come then!" She dashed to the elevator.

"Wait a second, McGee," Tony said, running from the elevator down to Abby's lab.

"What? I don't want Gibbs head slapping me in the first five minutes I'm back."

"Ah, that's just how he shows affection," Tony said, bending over his own desk. "Here! This is for you!"

"What?"

"It's called a present, McGee. Take it!"

Tim did and pulled off the sacking that was over it. It was a bag.

"You got me a new bag." His voice was so expressionless that Tony's smile faltered.

"You don't like it?"

Tim's mouth opened and closed but his smile grew wide. "Tony, if I didn't think you'd completely misinterpret it, I'd hug you."

"Let's keep this at an appropriate manly distance, McGee," Tony said.

"I do like it." Tim cleared his throat. "I really do. Thank you, Tony. I've been needing a new one."

"Well, then, come on! You can shift your stuff over in the car!"

Tim nodded and ran to the elevator with two bags on his back, one old ragged, barely hanging on, the other new, ready for long use.

FINIS!


End file.
